VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 


OTHER    BOOKS    BY 
MR.    QUICK 


DOUBLE  TROUBLE 
THE  BROKEN  LANCE 

ALADDIN  &  Co. 
VIRGINIA  OF  THE  AIR  LANES 

YELLOWSTONE  NIGHTS 

ON  BOARD  THE  GOOD  SHIP  EARTH 

THE  BROWN  MOUSE 

THE  FAIRVIEW  IDEA 

FROM  WAR  TO  PEACE 


"I  must  think!"  I  said.    "Let  me  he!' 


VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 


HERBERT  QUICK 


With  Illustrations  ip 
N.  C  WYETH 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


JQ2i,  1922 
THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT  1922 
HERBERT  QUICK 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PRESS  OF 

DRAUNWORTH    &    CO. 

BOOK   MANUFACTURERS 

BROOKLYN,   N.   T. 


'• 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    A  Flat  Dutch  Turnip  Begins  Its  Career I 

II     I  Learn  and  Do  Some  Teaching 12 

III  I  See  the  World,  and  Suffer  a  Great  Loss 28 

IV  I  Become  a  Sailor,  and  Find  a  Clue 45 

V    The  End  of  a  Long  Quest 68 

VI     I  Become  Cow  Vandemark 90 

VII     Adventure  on  the  Old  Ridge  Road 114 

VIII     My  Load  Receives  an  Embarrassing  Addition 136 

IX    The    Grove    of    Destiny 162 

X    The  Grove  of  Destiny  Does  Its  Work 181 

XI    In  Defense  of  the  Proprieties 197 

XII     Hell  Slew,  Alias  Vandemark's  Folly 211 

XIII    The   Plow   Weds   the   Sod 228 

XIV    I  Become  a  Bandit  and  a  Terror 243 

XV    I  Save  a  Treasure,  and  Start  a  Feud 263 

XVI    The  Fewkeses  in  Clover  at  Blue-grass  Manor 296 

XVII  I  Receive  a  Proposal — and  Accept 322 

XVIII  Rowena's  Way  Out— The   Prairie  Fire 345 

XIX     Gowdy   Acknowledges    His    Son 369 

XX    Just  as  Grandma  Thorndyke  Expected 394 


VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 


INTRODUCTION 

The  work  of  writing  the  history  cf  this  township — I 
mean  Vandemark  Township,  Monterey  County,  State 
of  Iowa — has  been  turned  over  to  me.  I  have  been  asked 
to  do  this  I  guess  because  I  was  the  first  settler  in  the 
township ;  it  was  named  after  me ;  I  live  on  my  own  farm 
— the  oldest  farm  operated  by  the  original  settler  in  this 
part  of  the  country ;  I  know  the  history  of  these  thirty-six 
square  miles  of  land  and  also  of  the  wonderful  swarming 
of  peoples  which  made  the  prairies  over;  and  the  agent 
of  the  Excelsior  County  History  Company  of  Chicago, 
having  heard  of  me  as  an  authority  on  local  history,  has 
asked  me  to  write  this  part  of  their  new  History  of  Mon 
terey  County  for  which  they  are  now  canvassing  for  sub 
scribers.  I  can  never  write  this  as  it  ought  to  be  written, 
and  for  an  old  farmer  with  no  learning  to  try  to  do  it  may 
seem  impudent,  but  some  time  a  great  genius  may  come 
up  who  will  put  on  paper  the  strange  and  splendid  story 
of  Iowa,  of  Monterey  County,  and  of  Vandemark  Town 
ship;  and  when  he  does  write  this,  the  greatest  history 
ever  written,  he  may  find  such  adventures  as  mine  of 
some  use  to  him.  Those  who  lived  this  history  are  already 
few  in  number,  are  fast  passing  away  and  will  soon  be 
gone.  I  lived  it,  and  so  did  my  neighbors  and  old  com 
panions  and  friends.  So  here  I  begin. 

The  above  was  my  first  introduction  to  this  history; 
and  just  here,  after  I  had  written  a  nice  fat  pile  of  man 
uscript,  this  work  came  mighty  close  to  coming  to  an  end. 


INTRODUCTION 

I  suppose  every  person  is  more  or  less  of  a  fool,  but 
at  my  age  any  man  ought  to  be  able  to  keep  himself  from 
being  gulled  by  the  traveling  swindlers  who  go  traips 
ing  about  the  country  selling  lightning  rods,  books,  and 
trying  by  every  means  in  their  power  to  get  the  name 
of  honest  and  propertied  men  on  the  dotted  line.  Just 
now  I  began  tearing  up  the  opening  pages  of  my  History 
of  Vandemark  Township,  and  should  have  thrown  them 
in  the  base-burner  if  it  had  not  been  for  my  granddaugh 
ter,  Gertrude. 

The  agent  of  the  Excelsior  County  History  Company 
called  and  asked  me  how  I  was  getting  along  with  the 
history,  and  when  I  showed  him  what  I  have  written, 
he  changed  the  subject  and  began  urging  me  to  subscribe 
for  a  lot  of  copies  when  it  is  printed,  and  especially,  to 
make  a  contract  for  having  my  picture  in  it.  He  tried  to 
charge  me  two  hundred  seventy-five  dollars  for  a  steel 
engraving,  and  said  I  could  keep  the  plate  and  have  others 
made  from  it.  Then  I  saw  through  him.  He  never 
wanted  my  history  of  the  township.  He  just  wanted  to 
swindle  me  into  buying  a  lot  of  copies  to  give  away,  and 
he  wanted  most  to  bamboozle  me  into  having  a  pic 
ture  made,  not  half  so  good  as  I  can  get  for  a  few  dollars 
a  dozen  at  any  good  photographer's,  and  pay  him  the 
price  of  a  good  team  of  horses  for  it.  He  thought  he 
could  gull  old  Jake  Vandemark!  If  I  would  pay  for  it, 
I  could  get  printed  in  the  book  a  few  of  my  remarks  on 
the  history  of  the  township,  and  my  two-hundred-and- 
seventy-five-dollar  picture.  Others  would  write  about 
something  else,  and  get  their  pictures  in.  In  that  way 
this  smooth  scoundrel  would  make  thousands  of  dollars 
out  of  people's  vanity — and  he  expected  me  to  be  one  of 


INTRODUCTION 

them !  If  I  can  put  him  in  jail  I'll  do  it — or  I  would  if  it 
were  not  for  posting  myself  as  a  fool. 

"Look  here,"  I  said,  after  he  had  told  me  what  a 
splendid  thing  it  would  be  to  have  my  picture  in  the 
book  so  future  generations  could  see  what  a  big  man  I 
was.  "Do  you  want  what  I  know  about  the  history  of 
Vandemark  Township  in  your  book,  or  are  you  just  out 
after  my  money?" 

"Well,"  he  said,  "if,  after  you've  written  twenty  or 
thirty  pages,  and  haven't  got  any  nearer  Vandemark 
Township  than  a  canal-boat,  somewhere  east  of  Syracuse, 
New  York,  in  1850,  I'll  need  some  money  if  I  print  the 
whole  story — judging  of  its  length  by  that.  Of  course, 
the  publication  of  the  book  must  be  financed." 

"There's  the  door!"  I  said,  and  pointed  to  it. 

He  went  out  like  a  shot,  and  Gertrude,  who  was  on 
the  front  porch,  came  flying  in  to  see  what  he  was  run 
ning  from.  I  was  just  opening  the  stove  door.  In  fact  I 
had  put  some  scraps  of  paper  in ;  but  there  was  no  fire. 

"Why,  grandpa,"  she  cried,  "what's  the  matter? 
What's  this  manuscript  you're  destroying?  Tell  me 
about  it !" 

"Give  it  to  me !"  I  shouted  ;  but  she  sat  down  with  it 
and  began  reading.  I  rushed  out,  and  was  gone  an  hour. 
When  I  came  back,  she  had  pasted  the  pages  together, 
and  was  still  reading  them.  She  came  to  me  and  put  her 
arms  about  my  neck  and  kissed  me  ;  and  finally  coaxed  me 
into  telling  her  all  about  the  disgraceful  affair. 

Well,  the  result  of  it  all  was  that  she  has  convinced 
me  of  the  fact  that  I  had  better  go  on  with  the  history. 
She  says  that  these  county-history  promoters  are  all 
slippery  people,  but  that  if  I  can  finish  the  history  as  I 
have  begun,  it  may  be  well  worth  while. 


INTRODUCTION 

"There  are  publishers,"  she  said,  "who  do  actually 
print  such  things.  Maybe  a  real  publisher  will  want  this. 
I  know  a  publisher  who  may  be  glad  to  get  it.  And, 
anyhow,  it  is  a  shame  for  all  your  experiences  to  be  lost 
to  the  world.  It's  very  interesting  as  far  as  you've  got. 
Go  on  with  it ;  and  if  no  publisher  wants  to  print  it  now, 
we'll  give  the  manuscript  to  the  Public  Library  in  Mon 
terey  Centre,  and  maybe,  long  after  both  of  us  are  dead 
and  gone,  some  historian  will  find  it  and  have  it  printed. 
Some  time  it  will  be  found  precious.  Write  it,  grandpa, 
for  my  sake !  We  can  make  a  wonderful  story  of  it." 

"We?"  I  said. 

"You,  I  mean,  of  course,"  she  replied ;  "but,  if  you 
really  want  me  to  do  it,  I  will  type  it  for  you,  and  maybe 
do  a  little  editing.  Maybe  you'll  let  me  do  a  little  foot 
note  once  in  a  while,  so  my  name  will  go  into  it  with 
yours.  I'd  be  awfully  proud,  grandpa." 

"It'll  take  a  lot  of  time,"  I  said. 

"And  you  can  spare  the  time  as  well  as  not,"  she 
answered. 

"You  all  think  because  I  don't  go  into  the  field  with 
a  team  any  more,"  I  objected,  "that  I  don't  amount  to 
anything  on  the  farm ;  but  I  tell  you  that  what  I  do  in  the 
way  of  chores  and  planning,  practically  amounts  to  a 
man's  work." 

"Of  course  it  does,"  she  admitted,  though  between  you 
and  me  it  wasn't  so.  "But  any  man  can  do  the  chores, 
and  the  planning  you  can  do  still — and  nobody  can  write 
the  History  of  Vandemark  Township  but  Jacobus  Teunis 
Vandemark.  You  owe  it  to  the  West,  and  to  the  world." 

So,  here  I  begin  the  second  time.  I  have  been  bothered 
up  to  now  by  feeling  that  I  have  not  been  making 


INTRODUCTION 

much  progress ;  but  now  there  will  be  no  need  for  me  to 
skip  anything.  I  begin,  just  as  that  canvassing  rascal 
said,  a  long  way  from  Vandemark  Township,  and  many 
years  ago  in  point  of  time ;  but  I  am  afloat  with  my  prow 
toward  the  setting  sun  on  that  wonderful  ribbon  of  water 
which  led  to  the  West.  I  was  caught  in  the  current. 
Nobody  could  live  along  the  Erie  Canal  in  those  days 
without  feeling  the  suck  of  the  forests,  and  catching  a 
breath  now  and  then  of  the  prairie  winds.  So  all  this 
really  belongs  in  the  history. 

J.  T.  VANDEMARK. 


VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

CHAPTER  I 

A  FLAT  DUTCH  TURNIP  BEGINS  ITS  CAREER 

MY  name  is  Jacobus  Teunis  Vandemark.  I  usually 
sign  J.  T.  Vandemark ;  and  up  to  a  few  years  ago 
I  thought  as  much  as  could  be  that  my  first  name  was 
Jacob;  but  my  granddaughter  Gertrude,  who  is  strong 
on  family  histories,  looked  up  my  baptismal  record  in  an 
old  Dutch  Reformed  church  in  Ulster  County,  New  York, 
came  home  and  began  teasing  me  to  change  to  Jacobus. 
At  first  I  would  not  give  up  to  what  I  thought  just  her 
silly  taste  for  a  name  she  thought  more  stylish  than  plain 
old  Jacob ;  but  she  sent  back  to  New  York  and  got  a  certi 
fied  copy  of  the  record.  So  I  had  to  knuckle  under. 
Jacobus  is  in  law  my  name  just  as  much  as  Teunis,  and 
both  of  them,  I  understand,  used  to  be  pretty  common 
names  among  the  Vandemarks,  Brosses,  Kuyckendalls, 
Westfalls  and  other  Dutch  families  for  generations.  It 
makes  very  little  difference  after  all,  for  most  of  the 
neighbors  call  me  Old  Jake  Vandemark,  and  some  of  the 
very  oldest  settlers  still  call  me  Cow  Vandemark,  because 
I  came  into  the  county  driving  three  or  four  yoke  of 
cows — which  make  just  as  good  draught  cattle  as  oxen, 
being  smarter  but  not  so  powerful.  This  nickname  is  gall 

I 


2  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  wormwood  to  Gertrude,  but  I  can't  quite  hold  with 
her  whims  on  the  subject  of  names.  She  spells  the  old 
surname  van  der  Marck — a  little  v  and  a  little  d  with  an 
r  run  in,  the  first  two  syllables  written  like  separate 
words,  and  then  the  big  M  for  Mark  with  a  c  before  the 
k.  But  she  will  know  better  when  she  gets  older  and  has 
more  judgment.  Just  now  she  is  all  worked  up  over  the 
family  history  on  which  she  began  laboring  when  she 
went  east  to  Vassar  and  joined  the  Daughters  of  the 
American  Revolution.  She  has  tried  to  coax  me  to  adopt 
"van  der  Marck"  as  my  signature,  but  it  would  not  jibe 
with  the  name  of  the  township  if  I  did;  and  anyhow  if: 
would  seem  like  straining  a  little  after  style  to  change 
a  name  that  has  been  a  household  word  hereabouts  since 
there  were  any  households.  The  neighbors  would  never 
understand  it,  anyhow ;  and  would  think  I  felt  above 
them.  Nothing  loses  a  man  his  standing  among  us 
farmers  like  putting  on  style. 

I  was  born  of  Dutch  parents  in  Ulster  County,  New 
York,  on  July  27,  1838.  It  is  the  only  anniversary  I  can 
keep  track  of,  and  the  only  reason  why  I  remember  it  is 
because  on  that  day,  except  when  it  came  on  a  Sunday, 
I  have  sown  my  turnips  ever  since  1855.  Everybody 
knows  the  old  rhyme : 

"On  the  twenty-seventh  of  July 
Sow  you  turnips,  wet  or  dry/' 

Ana  wet  or  dry,  my  parents  in  Ulster  County,  long,  long 
ago,  sowed  their  little  red  turnip  on  that  date. 

I  often  wonder  what  sort  of  dwelling  it  was,  and 
whether  the  July  heat  was  not  pretty  hard  on  my  poor 


A  FLAT  DUTCH  TURNIP  3 

mother.  I  think  of  this  every  birthday.  I  guess  a  habit 
of  mind  has  grown  up  which  I  shall  never  break  off ;  the 
moment  I  begin  sowing  turnips  I  think  of  my  mother 
bringing  forth  her  only  child  in  the  heat  of  dog-days,  and 
of  the  sweat  of  suffering  on  her  forehead  as  she  listened 
to  my  first  cry.  She  is  more  familiar  to  me,  and  really 
dearer  in  this  imaginary  scene  than  in  almost  any  real 
memory  I  have  of  her. 

I  do  not  remember  Ulster  County  at  all.  My  first 
memory  of  my  mother  is  of  a  time  when  we  lived  in  a 
little  town  the  name  and  location  of  which  I  forget; 
but  it  was  by  a  great  river  which  must  have  been  the 
Hudson  I  guess.  She  had  made  me  a  little  cap  with  a 
visor  and  I  was  very  proud  of  it  and  of  myself.  I  picked 
up  a  lump  of  earth  in  the  road  and  threw  it  over  a  stone 
fence,  covered  with  vines  that  were  red  with  autumn 
leaves — woodbine  or  poison-ivy  I  suppose.  I  felt  very 
big,  and  ran  on  ahead  of  my  mother  until  she  called  to  me 
to  stop  for  fear  of  my  falling  into  the  water.  We  had 
come  down  to  the  big  river.  I  could  hardly  see  the  other 
side  of  it.  The  whole  scene  now  grows  misty  and  dim ; 
but  I  remember  a  boat  coming  to  the  shore,  and  out  of  it 
stepped  John  Rucker. 

Whether  he  was  then  kind  or  cross  to  me  or  to  my 
mother  I  can  not  remember.  Probably  my  mind  was  too 
young  to  notice  any  difference  less  than  that  between 
love  and  cruelty.  I  know  I  was  happy ;  and  it  seems  to 
me  that  the  chief  reason  of  my  joy  was  the  new  cap  and 
the  fact  that  my  heart  swelled  and  I  was  proud  of  myself. 
I  do  not  believe  that  I  was  more  than  three  years  old. 
All  this  may  be  partlv  a  dream ;  but  I  think  not. 

John  Rucker  was  no  dream.     He  was  my  mother's 


4  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

second  husband;  and  by  the  time  I  was  five  years  old, 
and  had  begun  to  go  to  one  little  school  after  another  as 
we  moved  about,  John  Rucker  had  become  the  dark 
cloud  in  my  life.  He  paid  little  attention  to  me,  but  I 
recollect  that  by  the  time  we  had  settled  ourselves  at 
Tempe  I  was  afraid  of  him.  Two  or  three  times  he 
whipped  me,  but  no  more  severely  than  was  the  custom 
among  parents.  Other  little  boys  were  whipped  just  as 
hard,  and  still  were  not  afraid  of  their  fathers.  I  think 
now  that  I  was  afraid  of  him  because  my  mother  was. 
I  can  not  tell  how  he  looked  then,  except  that  he 
was  a  tall  stooped  man  with  a  yellowish  beard  all  over  his 
face  and  talked  in  a  sort  of  whine  to  others,  and  in  a 
sharp  domineering  way  to  my  mother.  To  me  he  scarcely 
ever  spoke  at  all.  At  Tempe  he  had  some  sort  of  a  shop 
in  which  he  put  up  a  dark-colored  liquid — a  patent  medi 
cine — which  he  sold  by  traveling  about  the  country.  I 
remember  that  he  used  to  complain  of  lack  of  money  and 
of  the  expense  of  keeping  me ;  and  that  my  mother  made 
clothes  for  people  in  the  village. 

Tempe  was  a  little  village  near  the  Erie  Canal  some 
where  between  Rome  and  Syracuse.  There  was  a  dam 
and  water-power  in  Tempe  or  near  there,  which,  I  think, 
was  the  overflow  from  a  reservoir  built  as  a  water-supply 
for  the  Erie  Canal — but  I  am  not  sure.  I  can  not  find 
Tempe  on  the  map ;  but  many  names  have  been  changed 
since  those  days.  I  think  it  was  farther  west  than  Canas- 
tota,  but  I  am  not  sure — it  was  a  long  time  ago. 


Once,  for  some  reason  of  his  own,  and  when  he  had 
got  some  money  in  an  unexpected  way,  Rucker  took  my 


A  FLAT  DUTCH  TURNIP  5 

mother  and  me  to  Oneida  for  an  outing.  My  mother  and 
I  camped  by  the  roadside  while  Rucker  went  somewhere 
to  a  place  where  a  lot  of  strangers  were  starting  a  colony 
of  Free  Lovers.  After  he  returned  he  told  my  mother 
that  we  had  been  invited  to  join  the  colony,  and  argued 
that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  us  all ;  but  my  mother 
got  very  mad  at  him,  and  started  to  walk  home  leading  me 
by  the  hand.  She  sobbed  and  cried  as  we  walked  along, 
especially  after  it  grew  late  in  the  afternoon  and  Rucker 
had  not  overtaken  us  with  the  horse  and  democrat  wagon. 
She  seemed  insulted,  and  broken-hearted ;  and  was  angry 
for  the  only  time  I  remember.  When  we  at  last  heard  the 
wagon  clattering  along  behind  us  in  the  woods,  we  sat 
down  on  a  big  rock  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  Rucker 
meanly  pretended  not  to  see  us  until  he  had  driven  on 
almost  out  of  sight.  My  mother  would  not  let  me  call 
out  to  him ;  and  I  stood  shaking  my  fist  at  the  wagon  as 
it  went  on  past  us,  and  feeling  for  the  first  time  that  I 
should  like  to  kill  John  Rucker.  Finally  he  stopped  and 
made  us  follow  on  until  we  overtook  him,  my  mother 
crying  and  Rucker  sneering  at  both  of  us.  This  must 
have  been  when  I  was  nine  or  ten  years  old.  The  books 
say  that  the  Oneida  Community  was  established  there  in 
1847,  when  I  was  nine. 

Long  before  this  I  had  been  put  out  by  John  Rucker 
to  work  in  a  factory  in  Tempe.  It  was  a  cotton  mill  run, 
I  think,  by  the  water-power  I  have  mentioned.  We  lived 
in  a  log  house  on  a  side-hill  across  the  road  and  above 
the  cotton  mill.  We  had  no  laws  in  those  days  against 
child  labor  or  long  hours.  In  the  winter  I  worked  by 
candle-light  for  two  hours  before  breakfast.  We  went 
to  work  at  five — I  did  this  when  I  was  six  years  old — * 


6  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  worked  until  seven,  when  we  had  half  an  hour  for 
breakfast.  As  I  lived  farther  from  the  mill  than  most 
of  the  children  who  were  enslaved  there,  my  breakfast- 
time  was  very  short.  At  half  past  seven  we  began  again 
and  worked  until  noon,  when  we  had  an  hour  for  dinner. 
At  one  o'clock  we  took  up  work  once  more  and  quit  at 
half  past  five  for  supper.  At  six  we  began  our  last  trick 
and  worked  until  eight — thirteen  hours  of  actual  labor. 

I  began  this  so  young  and  did  so  much  of  it  that  I 
feel  sure  my  growth  was  stunted  by  it — I  never  grew 
above  five  feet  seven,  though  my  mother  was  a  good-sized 
woman,  and  she  told  me  that  my  father  was  six  feet  tall — 
and  my  children  are  all  tall.  Maybe  I  should  never  have 
been  tall  anyhow,  as  the  Dutch  are  usually  broad  rather 
than  long.  Of  course  this  life  was  hard.  I  was  very 
little  when  I  began  watching  machines  and  tending 
spindles,  and  used  to  cry  sometimes  because  I  was  so 
tired.  I  almost  forgot  what  it  was  to  play ;  and  when 
I  got  home  at  night  I  staggered  with  sleepiness. 

My  mother  used  to  undress  me  and  put  me  to  bed, 
when  she  was  not  pressed  with  her  own  work ;  and  even 
then  she  used  to  come  and  kiss  me  and  see  that  I  had  not 
kicked  the  quilt  off  before  she  lay  down  for  her  short 
sleep.  I  remember  once  or  twice  waking  up  and  feeling 
her  tears  on  my  face,  while  she  whispered  "My  poor 
baby!"  or  other  loving  and  motherly  words  over  me. 
When  John  Rucker  went  off  on  his  peddling  trips  she 
would  take  me  out  of  the  factory  for  a  few  days  and  send 
me  to  school.  The  teachers  understood  the  case,  and  did 
all  they  could  to  help  me  in  spite  of  my  irregular  attend 
ance  ;  so  that  I  learned  to  read  after  a  fashion,  and  as  for 
arithmetic,  I  seemed  to  understand  that  naturally.  I  was 


A  FLAT  DUTCH  TURNIP  7 

a  poor  writer,  though ;  and  until  I  was  grown  I  never 
could  actually  write  much  more  than  my  name.  I  could 
always  make  a  stagger  at  a  letter  when  I  had  to  by  print 
ing  with  a  pen  or  pencil,  and  when  I  did  not  see  my 
mother  all  day  on  account  of  her  work  and  mine,  I  used  to 
print  out  a  letter  sometimes  and  leave  it  in  a  hollow 
apple-tree  which  stood  before  the  house.  We  called  this 
our  post-office.  I  am  not  complaining,  though,  of  my 
lack  of  education.  I  have  had  a  right  good  chance  in 
life,  and  have  no  reason  to  complain — except  that  I  wish 
I  could  have  had  a  little  more  time  to  play  and  to  be  with 
my  mother.  It  was  she,  though,  that  had  the  hard  time. 
By  this  time  I  had  begun  to  understand  why  John 
Rucker  was  always  so  cross  and  cruel  to  my  mother.  He 
was  disappointed  because  he  had  supposed  when  he  mar 
ried  her  that  she  had  property.  My  father  had  died 
while  a  lawsuit  for  the  purpose  of  settling  his  father's  es 
tate  was  pending,  and  Rucker  had  thought,  and  so  had 
my  mother,  that  this  lawsuit  would  soon  be  ended,  and 
that  she  would  have  the  property,  his  share  of  which  had 
been  left  to  her  by  my  father's  will.  I  have  never  known 
why  the  law  stood  in  my  mother's  way,  or  why  it  was  at 
last  that  Rucker  gave  up  all  hope  and  vented  his  spite  on 
my  mother  and  on  me.  I  do  not  blame  him  for  feeling 
put  out,  for  property  is  property  after  all,  but  to  abuse 
me  and  my  mother  shows  what  a  bad  man  he  was.  Some 
times  he  used  to  call  me  a  damned  little  beggar.  The 
first  time  he  did  that  my  mother  looked  at  him  with  a 
kind  of  lost  look  as  if  all  the  happiness  in  life  were  gone. 
After  that,  even  when  a  letter  came  from  the  lawyers 
who  were  looking  after  the  case,  holding  out  hope,  and 
always  asking  for  money,  and  Rucker  for  a  day  or  so  was 


8  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

quite  chipper  and  affectionate  to  my  mother  in  a  sickening 
sort  of  sneaking  way,  her  spirits  never  rose  so  far  as  I 
could  see.  I  suppose  she  was  what  might  be  called  a 
broken-hearted  woman. 

This  went  on  until  I  was  thirteen  years  old.  I  was 
little  and  not  very  strong,  and  had  a  cough,  caused,  per 
haps,  by  the  hard  steady  work,  and  the  lint  in  the  air  of 
the  factory.  There  were  a  good  many  cases  every  year 
of  the  working  people  there  going  into  declines  and 
dying  of  consumption ;  so  my  mother  had  taken  me  out 
of  the  factory  every  time  Rucker  went  away,  and  tried  to 
make  me  play.  It  was  so  in  all  the  factories  in  those  days. 
I  guess.  I  did  not  feel  like  playing,  and  had  no  play 
mates  ;  but  I  used  to  go  down  by  the  canal  and  watch 
the  boats  go  back  and  forth.  Sometimes  the  captains  of 
the  boats  would  ask  me  if  I  didn't  want  a  job  driving; 
but  I  scarcely  knew  what  they  meant.  I  must  have  been 
a  very  backward  child,  and  I  surely  was  a  scared  and 
conquered  one.  I  used  to  sit  on  a  stump  by  the  tow-path, 
and  so  close  to  it  that  the  boys  driving  the  mules  or 
horses  drawing  the  boats  could  almost  strike  me  with 
their  whips,  which  they  often  tried  to  do  as  they  went 
by.  Then  I  would  scuttle  back  into  the  brush  and  hide. 
There  just  below  was  a  lock,  but  I  seldom  went  to  it 
because  all  the  drivers  were  egged  on  to  fight  each  other 
during  the  delay  at  the  locks,  and  the  canallers  would 
have  been  sure  to  set  them  on  me  for  the  fun  of  seeing  a 
fight. 

On  the  most  eventful  evening  of  my  life,  perhaps. 
I  sat  on  this  stump,  watching  a  boat  which,  after  passing 
me,  was  slowing  down  and  stopping.  I  heard  the  captain 
swearing  at  some  one,  and  saw  him  come  ashore  and 


A  FLAT  DUTCH  TURNIP  9 

start  back  along  the  tow-path  toward  me  as  if  looking 
for  something.  He  was  a  tall  man  whom  I  had  seen  pass 
at  other  times,  and  I  was  wondering  whether  he  would 
speak  to  me  or  not,  when  I  felt  somebody's  hand  snatch 
at  my  collar,  and  a  whip  came  down  over  my  thin  shirt 
with  a  cut  which  as  I  write  I  seem  to  feel  yet.  It  was 
John  Rucker,  coming  home  when  we  were  not  expecting 
him,  and  mad  at  finding  me  out  of  the  factory. 

"I'll  learn  yeh  to  steal  my  time !"  he  was  saying.  "I'll 
learn  your  mother  to  lie  to  me  about  your  workin'.  A 
great  lubber  like  you  traipsin'  around  idle,  and  my  woman 
bringin'  a  doctor's  bill  on  me  by  workin'  night  an'  day 
to  make  up  your  wages  to  me — and  lyin'  to  her  husband ! 
I'll  track  you  by  the  blood!  Take  that — and  that — and 
that!1' 

I  had  never  resisted  him:  and  even  now  I  only  tried 
to  wiggle  away  from  him.  He  held  me  with  one  hand, 
though ;  and  at  every  pause  in  his  scolding  he  cut  me  with 
the  whip.  Weeks  after  the  welts  on  my  back  and  shoul 
ders  turned  dark  along  the  line  of  the  whip,  and  greenish 
at  the  edges.  I  did  not  cry.  I  felt  numbed  with  fright 
and  rage.  Suddenly,  however,  the  tall  canal-boat  cap 
tain,  coming  back  along  the  tow-path,  put  in  his  oar  by 
striking  the  whip  out  of  John  Rucker's  hand;  and 
snatched  me  away  from  him. 

"I'll  have  the  law  on  you !"  snarled  Rucker. 

"The  devil  you  will !"  said  the  captain. 

"I'll  put  you  through !"  screamed  Rucker. 

The  captain  eased  himself  forward  by  advancing  his 
left  foot,  and  with  his  right  fist  he  smashed  Rucker 
somewhere  about  the  face.  Rucker  went  down,  and  the 
captain  picked  up  the  whip,  and  carefully  laying  Rucker 


io  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

on  his  face  stripped  up  his  shirt  and  revenged  me,  lash 
for  lash ;  and  counting  each  cut  stopped  when  he  reached 
ten. 

"I  guess  that's  the  number,"  said  he,  taking  a  look  at 
my  bloody  back;  "but  for  fear  of  fallin'  short,  here's 
another!"  And  he  drew  the  whip  back,  and  brought  it 
down  with  a  quick,  sharp,  terrible  whistle  that  proved  its 
force.  "Now,"  said  he,  "you've  got  somethin'  to  put 
me  through  fer !" 

Then  he  started  back  toward  the  boat,  after  picking  up 
a  clevis  which  it  seems  the  driver-boy  had  dropped.  I 
looked  at  Rucker  a  moment  wondering  what  to  do.  He 
was  slowly  getting  on  his  feet,  groaning,  bloody  of  face 
and  back,  miserable  and  pitiable.  But  when  he  saw  me 
his  look  of  hatred  drove  out  of  my  mind  my  first  impulse 
to  help  him.  I  turned  and  ran  after  the  captain.  That 
worthy  never  looked  at  me ;  but  when  he  reached  the  boat 
he  said  to  some  one  on  board :  "Bill,  I  call  you  to  bear 
witness  that  I  refused  Bubby  here  a  chance  to  run  away." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir,"  responded  a  voice  from  the  boat. 

The  captain  took  me  gently  by  the  hand  and  helped 
me  over  the  gunwale. 

"Get  out  o'  here,"  he  shouted,  "an'  go  back  to  your 
lovin'  father!" 

I  sought  to  obey,  but  he  winked  at  me  and  motioned 
me  into  the  little  cabin  forward. 

"An'  now,  my  buck,"  said  he,  "that  you've  stowed 
yourself  away  and  got  so  far  from  home  that  to  put  you 
ashore  would  be  to  maroon  you  in  the  wilderness,  do  you 
want  to  take  a  job  as  driver?  That  boy  I've  got  lives 
in  Salina,  and  we'll  take  you  on  if  you  feel  like  a  life 
on  the  ocean  wave.  Can  vou  drive?" 


A  FLAT  DUTCH  TURNIP  II 

"I  do'  know !"  said  I. 

"Have  you  ever  worked  ?"  he  asked. 

"I've  worked  ever  since  I  was  six/'  I  answered. 

"Would  you  like  to  work  for  me?"  said  he. 

I  looked  him  in  the  face  for  a  moment,  and  answered 
confidently,  "Yes." 

"It's  a  whack,"  said  he.  "Maybe  we'd  better  doctor 
that  back  o'  your'n  a  little,  and  git  yeh  heartened  up  for 
duty." 

And  so,  before  I  knew  it,  I  was  whisked  off  into  a 
new  life. 


CHAPTER  II 

I   LEARN    AND  DO   SOME   TEACHING 

1LAY  in  a  bunk  in  one  of  the  two  little  forward  cabins 
next  the  stable,  shivering  and  sobbing,  a  pitiful  picture 
of  misery,  I  suppose,  as  any  one  ever  saw.  I  began  bawl 
ing  as  soon  as  the  captain  commenced  putting  arnica  on 
my  back — partly  because  it  smarted  so,  and  partly  because 
he  was  so  very  gentle  about  it;  although  all  the  time  he 
was  swearing  at  John  Rucker  and  wishing  he  had  skinned 
him  alive,  as  he  pretty  nearly  did.  To  feel  a  gentle  hand 
on  my  shredded  back,  and  to  be  babied  a  little  bit — these 
things  seemed  to  break  my  heart  almost,  though  while 
Rucker  was  flogging  me  I  bore  it  without  a  cry  or  a  tear. 
The  captain  dressed  my  back,  and  said,  "There,  there, 
Bubby !"  and  went  away,  leaving  me  alone. 

I  could  hear  the  ripple  of  the  water  against  the  side 
of  the  boat,  and  once  in  a  while  a  gentle  lift  as  we  passed 
another  boat ;  but  there  was  nothing  much  in  these  things 
to  cheer  me  up.  I  was  leaving  John  Rucker  behind,  it 
was  true,  but  I  was  also  getting  farther  and  farther  from 
my  mother  every  minute.  What  would  she  do  without 
me?  What  should  I  do  without  her?  I  should  be  free 
of  the  slavery  of  the  factory ;  but  I  did  not  think  of  that. 
I  should  have  been  glad  to  the  bottom  of  my  heart  if  I 
could  have  blotted  out  of  my  life  all  this  new  tragedy  and 
gone  back  to  the  looms  and  spindles.  The  factory  seemed 

12 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING        13 

an  awful  place  now  that  I  was  free,  but  it  was  familiar ; 
and  being  free  was  awful,  too;  but  I  never  once  thought 
of  going  back.  I  knew  I  could  learn  to  drive  the  horses, 
and  I  knew  I  should  stay  with  the  captain  who  had 
flogged  John  Rucker.  I  who  had  never  thought  of  run 
ning  away  was  just  as  much  committed  to  the  new  life  as 
if  I  had  planned  for  it  for  years.  Inside  my  spirit  I  sup 
pose  I  had  been  running  away  every  time  I  had  gone  down 
and  watched  the  boats  float  by ;  and  something  stronger 
than  my  conscious  will  floated  me  along,  also.  I  fought 
myself  to  keep  from  crying ;  but  I  never  thought  of  run 
ning  up  on  deck,  jumping  ashore  and  going  home,  as  I 
could  easily  have  done  at  any  time  within  an  hour  of 
boarding  the  boat.  I  buried  my  face  in  the  dirty  pillow 
with  no  pillow-case  on  it,  and  filled  my  mouth  with  the 
patchwork  quilt.  It  seemed  as  though  I  should  die  of 
weeping.  My  breath  came  in  long  spasmodic  draughts 
as  much  deeper  and  bitterer  than  sighs  as  sighs  are  sad 
der  and  more  pitiful  than  laughter.  My  whipped  back 
pained  and  smarted  me,  but  that  was  not  what  made 
me  cry  so  dreadfully ;  I  was  in  the  depths  of  despair ;  I 
was  humiliated ;  I  wras  suffering  from  injustice ;  I  had 
lost  my  mother — and  at  this  thought  my  breath  almost 
refused  to  come  at  all.  Presently  I  opened  my  eyes  and 
found  the  captain  throwing  water  in  my  face.  He  never 
mentioned  it  afterward ;  but  I  suppose  I  had  fainted 
away.  Then  I  went  to  sleep,  and  when  I  awoke  it  was 
dark  and  I  did  not  know  where  I  was,  and  screamed. 
The  captain  himself  quieted  me  for  a  few  minutes,  and  I 
dropped  off  to  sleep  again.  He  had  moved  me  without 
my  knowing  it,  from  the  drivers'  cabin  forward  to  his 
own.  But  I  must  not  spend  our  time  on  these  things. 


14  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

The  captain's  name  was  Eben  Sproule.  He  had 
been  a  farmer  and  sawmill  man,  and  still  had  a  farm 
between  Herkimer  and  Little  Falls  on  the  Mohawk 
River.  He  owned  his  boat,  and  seemed  to  be  doing  very 
well  with  her.  The  other  driver  was  a  boy  named  Asa — 
I  forget  his  other  name.  We  called  him  Ace.  He  lived 
at  Salina,  or  Salt  Point,  which  is  now  a  part  of  Syracuse ; 
and  was  always,  in  his  talk  to  me,  daring  the  captain  to 
discharge  him,  and  threatening  to  get  a  job  in  the  salt 
works  at  Salina  if  ever  he  quit  the  canal.  He  seemed  to 
think  this  would  spite  Captain  Sproule  very  much.  I 
expected  him  to  leave  the  boat  when  we  reached  Syra 
cuse  ;  but  he  never  did,  and  I  think  he  kept  on  driving 
after  I  quit.  Our  wages  cost  the  boat  twenty  dol 
lars  a  month — ten  dollars  each — and  the  two  hands  we 
carried  must  have  brought  the  pay-roll  up  to  about  sev 
enty  a  month  besides  our  board.  We  always  had  four 
horses,  two  in  the  stable  forward,  and  two  pulling  the 
boat.  We  plied  through  to  Buffalo,  and  back  to  Albany, 
carrying  farm  products,  hides,  wool,  wheat,  other  grain, 
and  such  things  as  potash,  pearlash,  staves,  shingles,  and 
salt  from  Syracuse,  and  sometimes  a  good  deal  of  meat ; 
and  what  the  railway  people  call  "way-freight"  between 
all  the  places  along  the  route.  Our  boat  was  much  slow 
er  than  the  packets  and  the  passenger  boats  which  had  re 
lays  of  horses  at  stations  and  went  pretty  fast,  and  had 
good  cabins  for  the  passengers,  too,  and  cooks  and  stew 
ards,  serving  fine  meals ;  while  all  our  cooking  was  done 
by  the  captain  or  one  of  our  hands,  though  sometimes  we 
carried  a  cook. 

Bill,  the  man  who  answered  "Ay,  ay,  sir !"  when  the 
captain  asked  him  to  witness  that  he  had  refused  me 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING        15 

passage  on  the  boat,  was  a  salt-water  sailor  who  had 
signed  on  with  the  boat  while  drunk  at  Albany  and  now 
said  he  was  going  to  Buffalo  to  try  sailing  on  the  Lakes. 
The  other  man  was  a  green  Irishman  called  Paddy, 
though  I  suppose  that  was  not  his  name.  He  was  good 
only  as  a  human  derrick  or  crane.  We  used  to  look 
upon  all  Irishmen  as  jokes  in  those  days,  and  I  suppose 
they  realized  it.  Paddy  used  to  sing  Irish  comeallyes 
on  the  deck  as  we  moved  along  through  the  country ; 
and  usually  got  knocked  down  by  a  low  bridge  at  least 
once  a  day  as  he  sang,  or  sat  dreaming  in  silence.  Bill 
despised  Paddy  because  he  was  a  landsman,  and  used 
to  drown  Paddy's  Irish  songs  with  his  sailor's  chanties 
roared  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  And  mingled  with  us 
on  the  boat  would  be  country  people  traveling  to  or 
from  town,  pedlers,  parties  going  to  the  stopping- 
places  of  the  passenger  boats,  people  loading  and  un 
loading  freight,  drovers  with  live  stock  for  the  market, 
and  all  sorts  of  queer  characters  and  odd  fish  who 
haunted  the  canal  as  waterside  characters  infest  the 
water-front  of  ports.  If  I  could  live  that  strange  life 
over  again  I  might  learn  more  about  it;  but  I  saw  very 
little  meaning  in  it  then.  That  is  always  the  way,  I 
guess.  We  must  get  away  from  a  type  of  life  or  we 
can't  see  it  plainly.  That  has  been  the  way  as  to  our  old 
prairie  life  in  Iowa.  It  is  only  within  the  past  few  years 
that  I  have  begun  to  see  a  little  more  of  what  it  meant. 
It  was  not  long  though  until  even  I  began  to  feel  the 
West  calling  to  me  with  a  thousand  voices  which  echoed 
back  and  forth  along  the  Erie  Canal,  and  swelled  to  a 
chorus  at  the  western  gateway,  Buffalo. 


16  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 


Captain  Sproule  had  carried  me  aft  from  the  drivers' 
cabin  to  his  own  while  I  was  in  a  half-unconscious  con 
dition,  and  out  of  pure  pity,  I  suppose ;  but  that  was  the 
last  soft  treatment  I  ever  got  from  him.  He  came  into 
the  cabin  just  as  I  was  thinking  of  getting  up,  and 
sternly  ordered  me  forward  to  my  own  cabin.  I  had 
nothing  to  carry,  and  it  was  very  little  trouble  to  move. 
We  were  moored  to  the  bank  just  then  taking  on  or  dis 
charging  freight,  and  Ace  was  in  the  cabin  to  receive 
me. 

"That  upper  bunk's  your'n,"  he  said.  "No  greenhorn 
gits  my  bunk  away  from  me!" 

I  stood  mute.    Ace  glared  at  me  defiantly. 

"Can  you  fight?"  he  asked. 

"I  do'  know,"  I  was  obliged  to  answer. 

"Then  you  can't,"  said  Ace,  with  bitter  contempt. 
•*I  can  lick  you  with  one  hand  tied  behind  me !" 

He  drew  back  his  fist  as  if  to  strike  me,  and  I  won 
der  that  I  did  not  run  from  the  cabin  and  jump  ashore, 
but  I  stood  my  ground,  more  from  stupor  and  what  we 
Dutch  call  dumbness  than  anything  else.  Ace  let  his  fist 
fall  and  looked  me  over  with  more  respect.  He  was  a 
slender  boy,  hard  as  a  whip-lash,  wiry  and  dark.  He  was 
no  taller  than  I,  and  not  so  heavy;  but  he  had  come  to 
have  brass  and  confidence  from  the  life  he  lived.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  was  not  so  old  as  I,  but  had  grown 
faster ;  and  was  nothing  like  as  strong  after  I  had  got  my 
muscles  hardened,  as  was  proved  many  a  time. 

"You'll  make  a  great  out  of  it  on  the  canal,"  he  said. 

"What?"  said  I. 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING        17 

"A  boy  that  can't  fight,"  said  he,  "don't  last  long 
drivin'.  I've  had  sixteen  fights  this  month !" 

A  bell  sounded  on  deck,  and  we  heard  the  voice  of 
Bill  calling  us  to  breakfast.  Ace  yelled  to  me  to  come 
on,  and  all  hands  including  the  captain  gathered  on  deck 
forward,  where  we  had  coffee,  good  home-made  bread 
bought  from  a  farmer's  wife,  fried  cakes,  boiled  potatoes, 
and  plenty  of  salt  pork,  finishing  with  pie.  All  the  cook 
had  to  do  was  to  boil  potatoes,  cook  eggs  when  we  had 
them  and  make  coffee;  for  the  most  of  our  victuals  we 
bought  as  we  passed  through  the  country.  The  captain 
had  a  basket  of  potatoes  or  apples  on  the  deck  which  he 
used  as  cash  carriers.  He  would  put  a  piece  of  money 
in  a  potato  and  throw  it  to  whoever  on  shore  had 
anything  to  sell,  and  the  goods,  if  they  could  be  safely 
thrown,  would  come  whirling  over  to  be  caught  by  some 
of  us  on  deck.  We  got  many  a  nice  chicken  or  loaf  of 
bread  or  other  good  victuals  in  that  way ;  and  we  lived 
on  the  fat  of  the  land.  All  sorts  of  berries  and  fruit, 
milk,  butter,  eggs,  cakes,  pies  and  the  like  came  to  the 
canal  without  any  care  on  our  part;  everything  was 
cheap,  and  every  meal  was  a  feast.  This  first  breakfast 
was  a  trial,  but  I  made  a  noble  meal  of  it.  The  sailor, 
Bill,  pretended  to  believe  that  I  had  killed  a  man  on  shore 
and  had  gone  to  sea  to  escape  the  gallows.  Ace  and 
Paddy  to  frighten  me,  I  suppose,  talked  about  the  dan 
gers  and  difficulties  of  the  driver's  life ;  while  the  cap 
tain  gave  all  of  us  stern  looks  over  his  meal  and  looked 
fiercely  at  me  as  if  to  deny  that  he  had  ever  been  kind. 
When  the  meal  was  over  he  ordered  Ace  to  the  tow- 
path,  and  told  him  to  take  me  along  and  show  me  how 
to  drive. 


i8  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Here,"  he  snapped  at  me,  "is  where  we  make  a 
spoon  or  spoil  a  horn.  Go  'long  with  you !" 

Ace  climbed  on  the  back  of  one  of  the  horses.  I 
looked  up  wondering  what  I  was  to  do. 

"You'll  walk,"  said  Ace;  "an'  keep  your  eyes 
skinned." 

So  we  started  off.  Each  horse  leaned  into  the  collar, 
and  slowly  the  hundred  tons  or  so  of  dead  weight  started 
through  the  water.  The  team  knew  that  it  was  of  no  use 
to  surge  against  the  load  to  get  it  started,  as  horses  do 
with  a  wagon ;  but  they  pulled  steadily  and  slowly,  grad 
ually  getting  the  boat  under  way,  and  soon  it  was  mov 
ing  along  with  the  team  at  a  brisk  walk,  and  with  less 
labor  than  a  hundredth  part  of  the  weight  would  have 
called  for  on  land.  I  have  always  believed  in  inland 
waterways  for  carrying  the  heavy  freight  of  this  nation ; 
because  the  easiest  and  cheapest  way  to  transport  any 
thing  is  to  put  it  in  the  water  and  float  it.  This  lesson  I 
learned  when  Ace  whipped  up  Dolly  and  Jack  and  took 
our  craft  off  toward  Syracuse. 

It  was  a  hard  day  for  me.  We  were  passing  boats  all 
the  time,  and  we  had  to  make  speed  to  keep  craft  which 
had  no  right  to  pass  us  from  getting  by,  especially  just 
before  reaching  a  lock.  To  allow  another  boat  to  steal 
our  lockage  from  us  was  a  disgrace ;  and  many  of  the 
fights  between  the  driver  boys  grew  out  of  the  rights  of 
passing  by  and  the  struggle  to  avoid  delays  at  the  locks. 
Sometimes  such  affairs  were  not  settled  by  the  boys  on 
the  tow-path — they  fought  off  the  skirmishes ;  the  real 
battles  were  between  the  captains  or  members  of  the 
crews. 

If  there  were  rules  I  don't  know  now  what  they  were, 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING       19 

and  nobody  paid  much  attention  to  them.  Of  course  we 
let  the  passenger  boats  pass  whenever  they  overtook  us, 
unless  we  could  beat  them  into  a  lock.  We  delayed  them 
then  by  laying  our  boat  out  into  the  middle  of  the  canal 
and  quarreling  until  we  reached  the  lock;  under  cover 
maybe  of  some  pretended  mistake.  Our  laying  the  boat 
out  to  shut  off  a  passing  rival  was  dangerous  to  the  slow 
boat,  for  the  reason  that  a  collision  meant  that  the 
strongly-built  stem-end  of  the  boat  coming  up  from  be 
hind  could  crush  the  weaker  stern  of  the  obstructing 
craft.  Such  are  some  of  the  things  I  had  to  learn. 

3 

The  passing  of  us  by  a  packet  brought  me  my  first 
grief.  She  came  up  behind  us  with  her  horses  at  the  full 
trot.  Their  boat  was  down  the  canal  a  hundred  yards  01 
so  at  the  end  of  the  tow-line;  and  just  before  the  boat 
itself  drew  even  with  ours  she  was  laid  over  by  her  steers 
man  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  ditch,  her  horses  were 
checked  so  as  to  let  her  line  so  slacken  as  to  drop 
down  under  our  boat,  her  horses  were  whipped  up  by  a 
sneering  boy  on  a  tall  bay  steed,  her  team  went  outside 
ours  on  the  tow-path,  and  the  passage  was  made. 
They  made,  as  was  always  the  case,  a  moving  loop  of 
their  line,  one  end  hauled  ty  the  packet,  and  the  other  by 
the  team.  I  was  keeping  my  eye  skinned  to  see  how  the 
thing  was  done,  when  the  tow-line  of  the  packet  came  by, 
tripped  me  up  and  threw  me  into  the  canal,  from  which 
I  was  fished  out  by  Bill  as  our  boat  came  along.  There 
was  actual  danger  in  this  unless  the  steersman  happened 
to  be  really  steering,  and  laid  the  boat  off  so  as  to  miss 
me. 


20  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Captain  Sproule  gazed  at  me  in  disgust.  Ace  laughed 
loudly  away  out  ahead  on  the  horse.  Bill  said  that  if  it 
had  been  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean  I  never  would  have 
been  shamed  by  being  hauled  up  on  deck.  He  was  sorry 
for  my  sake,  as  I  never  would  live  this  thing  down. 

"Go  change  your  clothes,"  said  the  captain,  "and  try 
not  to  be  such  a  lummox  next  time." 

I  had  no  change  of  clothes,  and  therefore,  I  took  the 
first  opportunity  to  get  out  on  the  tow-path,  wet  as  I 
was,  and  begin  again  to  learn  my  first  trade.  It  was  a 
lively  occupation.  There  were  some  four  thousand  boats 
on  the  Erie  Canal  at  that  time,  or  an  average  of  ten 
boats  to  the  mile.  I  suppose  there  were  from  six  to  eight 
thousand  boys  driving  then  on  the  "Grand  Canal"  alone, 
as  it  was  called.  More  than  half  of  these  boys  were  or 
phans,  and  it  was  not  a  good  place  for  any  boy,  no  matter 
how  many  parents  or  guardians  he  might  have.  Five 
hundred  or  more  convicts  in  the  New  York  State  Peni 
tentiary  were  men  who,  as  I  learned  from  a  missionary 
who  came  aboard  to  pray  with  us,  sing  hymns  and  exhort 
us  to  a  better  life,  had  been  canal-boat  drivers.  The  boys 
were  at  the  mercy  of  their  captains,  and  were  often 
cheated  out  of  their  wages.  There  were  stories  of  young 
boys  sick  with  cholera,  when  that  disease  was  raging,  or 
with  other  diseases,  being  thrown  off  the  boats  and  al 
lowed  to  live  or  die  as  luck  might  determine.  There  were 
hardship,  danger  and  oppression  in  the  driver's  life ;  and 
every  sort  of  vice  was  like  an  open  book  before  him  as 
soon  as  he  came  to  understand  it — which,  at  first,  I  did 
not.  If  my  mother  knew,  as  I  suppose  she  did,  what 
sort  of  occupation  I  had  entered  upon,  I  do  not  see  how 
she  could  have  been  anything  but  miserable  as  she 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING        21 

thought  of  me — though  she  realized  keenly  from  what  I 
had  escaped. 

Back  on  the  tow-path,  I  was  earning  the  contempt  of 
Ace  by  dodging  every  issue,  like  a  candidate  for  office. 
I  learned  quickly  to  snub  the  boat  by  means  of  a  rope 
and  the  numerous  snubbing-posts  along  the  canal.  This 
was  necessary  in  stopping,  in  entering  locks,  and  in 
rounding  some  curves ;  and  my  first  glimmer  of  courage 
came  from  the  fact  that  I  seemed  to  know  at  once  how 
this  was  to  be  done — the  line  to  be  passed  twice  about  the 
post,  and  so  managed  as  to  slip  around  it  with  a  great 
deal  of  friction  so  as  to  bring  her  to. 

4 

I  was  afraid  of  the  other  drivers,  however,  and  I  was 
afraid  of  Ace.  He  drove  me  like  a  Simon  Legree.  He 
ordered  me  to  fight  other  drivers,  and  when  I  refused, 
he  took  the  fights  off  my  hands  or  avoided  them  as  the 
case  might  require.  He  flicked  at  my  bare  feet  with  his 
whip.  When  we  were  delayed  by  taking  on  or  discharg 
ing  freight,  he  would  try  to  corner  me  and  throw  me 
into  the  canal.  He  made  me  do  all  the  work  of  taking 
care  of  our  bunks,  and  cuffed  my  ears  whenever  he  got  a 
chance.  He  made  me  do  his  share  as  well  as  my  own  of 
the  labor  of  cleaning  the  stables,  and  feeding  and  caring 
for  the  horses,  sitting  by  and  giving  orders  with  a  com 
ical  exaggeration  of  the  manner  of  Captain  Sproule.  In 
short,  he  was  hazing  me  unmercifully — as  every  one  on 
the  boat  knew,  though  some  of  the  things  he  did  to  me  I 
do  not  think  the  captain  would  have  permitted  if  he  had 
known  about  them. 

I  was  more  miserable  with  the  cruelty  and  tyranny  of 
Ace  than  I  had  been  at  home;  for  this  was  a  constant 


22  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

misery,  night  and  day,  and  got  worse  every  minute.  He 
ruled  even  what  I  ate  and  drank.  When  I  took  anything 
at  meal-times,  I  would  first  glance  at  him,  and  if  he 
looked  forbidding  or  shook  his  head,  I  did  not  eat  the 
forbidden  thing.  I  knew  on  that  voyage  from  Syracuse 
to  Buffalo  exactly  what  servitude  means.  No  slave  was 
ever  more  systematically  cruelized*,  no  convict  ever  more 
brutishly  abused — unless  his  oppressor  may  have  been 
more  ingenious  than  Ace.  He  took  my  coverlets  at  night. 
He  starved  me  by  making  me  afraid  to  eat.  He  worked 
me  as  hard  as  the  amount  of  labor  permitted.  He  com 
mitted  abominable  crimes  against  my  privacy  and  the 
delicacy  of  my  feelings — and  all  the  time  I  could  not 
rebel.  I  coul'd  only  think  of  running  away  from  the 
boat,  and  was  nearly  at  the  point  of  doing  so,  when  he 
crowded  me  too  far  one  day,  and  pushed  me  to  the  point 
of  one  of  those  frenzied  revolts  for  which  the  Dutch  are 
famous. 

A  little  girl  peeking  at  me  from  an  orchard  beside  the 
tow-path  tossed  me  an  apple — a  nice,  red  juicy  apple.  I 
caught  it,  and  put  it  in  my  pocket.  That  evening  we  tied 
up  at  a  landing  and  were  delayed  for  an  hour  or  so  tak 
ing  on  freight.  I  slipped  into  the  stable  to  eat  my  apple, 
knowing  that  Ace  would  pound  me  if  he  learned  that  I 
had  kept  anything  from  him,  whether  he  really  wanted 
it  or  not.  Suddenly  I  grew  sick  with  terror,  as  I  saw  him 
coming  in  at  the  door.  He  saw  what  I  was  doing,  and 
glared  at  me  vengefully.  He  actually  turned  white  with 
rage  at  this  breach  of  his  authority,  and  came  at  me  with 
set  teeth  and  doubled  fists. 


*The  author  insists  that  "cruelized"  is  the  exact  word  to 
express  his  meaning,  and  will  consent  to  no  change.— G.  v.  d.  M. 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING        23 

"Give  me  that  apple,  damn  yeh!"  he  cried.  "You 
sneakin'  skunk,  you,  I'll  larn  ye  to  eat  my  apples !" 

He  snatched  at  the  apple,  and  was  too  successful ;  for 
before  he  reached  it  I  opened  my  hand  in  obedience  to  his 
onslaught ;  and  the  apple  rolled  in  the  manure  and  lit 
ter  of  the  stable,  and  was  soiled  and  befouled. 

"Throwin'  my  apple  in  the  manure,  will  yeh !"  he 
yelled.  "I'll  larn  ye !  Pick  that  apple  up !" 

I  reached  for  it  with  trembling  hand,  and  held  it  out 
to  him. 

"It  ain't  fit  for  anything  but  the  hogs!"  he  yelled. 
"Eat  it,  hog!" 

I  looked  at  the  filthy  thing,  and  raised  my  hand  to  my 
mouth;  but  before  I  touched  it  with  my  lips  a  great 
change  came  over  me.  I  trembled  still  more,  now ;  but  it 
was  not  with  fear.  I  suddenly  felt  that  if  I  could  kill 
Ace,  I  would  be  willing  to  die.  I  was  willing  to  die  try 
ing  to  kill  him.  I  coul'd  not  get  away  from  him  because 
he  was  between  me  and  the  door,  but  now  suddenly  I  did 
not  want  to  get  away.  I  wanted  to  get  at  him.  I  threw 
the  apple  down. 

"Pick  that  apple  up  and  eat  it,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone, 
looking  me  straight  in  the  eye,  "or  I'll  pound  you  till  you 
can't  walk." 

"I  won't,"  said  I. 

Ace  rushed  at  me,  and  as  he  rushed,  he  struck  me  in 
the  face.  I  went  down,  and  he  piled  on  me,  hitting  me 
as  he  could.  I  liked  the  feel  of  his  blows ;  it  was  good  to 
realize  that  they  did  not  hurt  me  half  so  much  as  his 
abuse  had  done.  I  did  not  know  how  to  fight,  but  I 
grappled  with  him  fiercely.  I  reached  for  his  hair,  and 
he  tried  to  bite  my  thumb,  actually  getting  it  in  his 


24  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

mouth,  but  I  jerked  it  aside  and  caught  his  cheek  in  my 
grip,  my  thumb  inside  the  cheek-pouch,  and  my  fingers 
outside.  I  felt  a  hot  thrill  of  joy  as  my  nails  sank  into 
his  cheek  inside  and  out,  and  he  cringed.  I  held  him  at 
arm's  length,  helpless,  and  with  his  head  drawn  all  askew ; 
and  still  keeping  my  unfair  hold,  I  rolled  him  over,  aad 
coming  on  top  of  him,  thrust  the  other  thumb  in  the  other 
side  of  his  mouth,  frenziedly  trying  to  rip  his  cheeks,  and 
pounding  his  head  on  the  deck.  We  rolled  back  into  the 
corner,  where  he  jerked  my  thumbs  from  his  mouth,  now 
bleeding  at  the  corners,  and  desperately  tried  to  roll  me. 
My  hand  came  into  touch  with  a  horseshoe  on  the  stable 
floor,  which  I  picked  up,  and  filled  with  joy  at  the  con 
sciousness  that  I  was  stronger  than  he,  I  began  beating 
him  over  the  face  and  head  with  it,  with  no  thought  of 
anything  but  killing  him.  He  turned  over  on  his  face 
and  began  trying  to  shield  his  head  with  his  arms,  at 
which  I  tore  like  a  crazy  boy,  beating  at  arms,  head, 
hands  and  neck  with  the  dull  horseshoe,  and  screaming, 
"I'll  kill  you!  I'll  kill  you!  I'll  kill  you!" 

In  the  meantime,  it  gradually  dawned  on  Ace  that  he 
was  licked,  and  he  began  yelling,  "Enough!  Enough!" 
which  according  to  the  rules  of  the  game  entitled  him  to 
be  let  alone ;  but  I  knew  nothing  about  the  rules  of  the 
game.  I  saw  the  blood  spurting  from  one  or  two  cuts  in 
his  scalp.  I  felt  it  warm  and  slimy  on  my  hands,  and  I 
rained  my  blows  on  him,  madly  and  blindly,  but  with 
cruel  effect  after  all.  I  did  not  see  the  captain  when  he 
came  in.  I  only  felt  his  grip  on  my  right  arm,  as  he 
seized  it  and  snatched  the  horseshoe  from  me.  I  did  not 
hear  what  he  said,  though  I  heard  him  saying  something. 
When  he  caught  both  my  hands,  I  threw  myself  down  on 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING        25 

the  cowering  Ace  and  tried  to  bite  him.  When  he  lifted 
me  up  I  kicked  the  prostrate  Ace  in  the  face  as  a  parting 
remembrance.  When  he  stood  me  up  in  the  corner  of 
the  stable  and  asked  me  what  in  hell  I  was  doing,  I  broke 
away  from  him  and  threw  myself  on  the  staggering  Ace 
with  all  the  fury  of  a  bulldog.  And  when  Bill  came  and 
helped  the  captain  hold  me,  I  was  crying  like  a  baby,  and 
deaf  to  all  commands.  I  struggled  to  get  at  Ace  until 
they  took  him  away ;  and  then  I  collapsed  and  had  a  mis 
erable  time  of  it  while  my  anger  was  cooling. 

"I  thought  Ace  would  crowd  the  mourners  too  hard," 
said  the  captain.  "Now,  Jake,"  said  he,  "will  you 
behave?" 

There  was  no  need  to  ask  me.  A  baby  could  have 
held  me  then. 

"Don't  you  know,"  said  the  captain,  "that  you  ortn't 
to  pound  a  feller  with  a  horseshoe?  Do  you  always  act 
like  this  when  you  fight?" 

"I  never  had  a  fight  before,"  I  sobbed. 

"Well,  you  won't  have  another  with  Ace,"  said  the 
captain.  "You  damned  near  killed  him.  And  next  time 
fight  fair!" 

That  night  I  drove  alone,  which  I  had  been  doing 
now  for  some  time,  taking  my  regular  trick ;  and  when 
we  tied  up  at  some  place  west  of  Lockport,  I  went  to  my 
bunk  expecting  to  find  Ace  ready  to  renew  his  tyrannies, 
and  determined  to  resist  to  the  death.  He  was  lying  in 
the  lower  bunk  asleep,  and  his  bandaged  head  looked 
rather  pitiful.  For  all  that  my  anger  flamed  up  again  as 
I  looked  at  him.  I  shook  him  roughly  by  the  shoulder. 
He  awakened  with  a  moan. 

"Get  out  of  that  bunk !"  I  commanded. 


26  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Let  me  alone,"  he  whimpered,  but  he  got  out  as  I 
told  him  to  do. 

"Climb  into  that  upper  bunk,"  I  said. 

He  looked  at  me  a  moment,  and  climbed  up.  I  turned 
in,  in  the  lower  bunk,  but  I  could  not  sleep.  I  was  boss ! 
It  was  Ace  now  who  would  be  the  underling.  It  was  not 
a  cold  night;  but  pretty  soon  I  thought  of  the  quilts  in 
the  upper  berth,  and  imitating  Ace's  cruelty,  I  called  up 
to  him  fiercely,  awakening  him  again.  "Throw  down 
that  quilt,"  I  said,  "I  want  it." 

"You  let  me  alone,"  whimpered  Ace,  but  the  quilt  was 
thrown  down  on  the  deck,  where  I  let  it  lie.  Ace  lay 
there,  breathing  occasionally  with  a  long  quivering  sigh—' 
the  most  pitiful  thing  a  child  ever  does — and  we  were 
both  children,  remember,  put  in  a  most  unchildlike  po 
sition.  I  dropped  asleep,  but  soon  awakened.  It  had 
grown  cold,  and  I  reached  for  the  quilt;  but  something 
prompted  me  to  reach  up  and  see  whether  Ace  was  still 
there.  He  lay  there  asleep,  and,  as  I  could  feel,  cold.  I 
picked  up  the  quilt,  threw  it  over  him,  tucked  him  in  as 
my  mother  used  to  tuck  me  in, — thinking  of  her  as  I  did 
it — and  went  back  to  my  bunk.  I  was  sorry  I  had  cut 
Ace's  head,  and  had  already  begun  to  forget  how  cru 
elly  he  had  used  me.  I  seemed  to  feel  his  blood  on  my 
hands,  and  got  up  and  washed  them.  The  thought  of 
Ace's  bandages,  and  the  vision  of  wounds  under  them 
filled  me  with  remorse — but  I  was  boss!  Finally  I 
dropped  asleep,  and  awoke  to  find  that  Ace  had  got  up 
ahead  of  me.  I  was  embarrassed  by  my  new  authority; 
and  sorry  for  what  I  had  been  obliged  to  do  to  get  it ;  but 
I  was  a  new  boy  from  that  day. 

It  never  pays  to  be  a  slave.    It  never  benefits  a  man  or 


I  LEARN  AND  DO  SOME  TEACHING        27 

a  people  to  submit  to  tyranny.  A  slave  is  a  man  forgot 
ten  of  God.  That  fight  against  slavery  was  a  beautiful, 
a  joyful  thing  to  me,  with  all  its  penalties  of  compassion 
and  guilty  feeling  afterward.  I  think  the  best  thing  a 
man  or  boy  can  do  is  to  find  out  how  far  and  to  whom 
he  is  a  slave,  and  fight  that  servitude  tooth  and  nail  as  I 
fought  Ace.  It  would  make  this  a  different  world. 


CHAPTER  III 

I  SEE  THE  WORLD,  AND  SUFFER  A  GREAT  LOSS 

PHE  strange  thing  to  me  about  my  fight  with  Ace  was 
•*•  that  nobody  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  punishing 
me  for  it.  I  was  free  to  fight  or  not  as  I  pleased.  I 
needed  to  be  free  more  than  anything  else,  and  I  wanted 
plenty  of  good  food  and  fresh  air.  All  these  I  got,  for 
Captain  Sproule,  while  stern  and  strict  with  us,  enforced 
only  those  rules  which  were  for  the  good  of  the  boat, 
and  these  seemed  like  perfect  liberty  to  me — after  I 
whipped  Ace.  As  for  my  old  tyrant,  he  recovered  his 
spirits  very  soon,  and  took  the  place  of  an  underling 
quite  contentedly.  I  suppose  he  had  been  used  to  it. 
I  ruled  in  a  manner  much  milder  than  his.  I  had  never 
learned  to  swear — or  to  use  harder  words  than  gosh,  and 
blast,  and  dang  where  the  others  swore  the  most  fearful 
oaths  as  a  matter  of  ordinary  talk.  I  made  a  rule  that 
Ace  must  quit  swearing;  and  slapped  him  up  to  a  peak 
a  few  times  for  not  obeying — which  was  really  a  hard 
thing  for  him  to  do  while  driving;  and  when  he  was  in 
a  quarrel  I  always  overlooked  his  cursing,  because  he 
could  not  fight  successfully  unless  he  had  the  right  to 
work  himself  up  into  a  passion  by  calling  names  and 
swearing. 

As  for  myself  I  walked  and  rode  erect  and  felt  my 
limbs  as  light  as  feathers,  as  compared  with  their  leaden 
weight  when  I  lived  at  Tempe  and  worked  in  the  factory. 

28 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  29 

Soon  I  took  on  my  share  of  the  fighting  as  a  matter  of 
course.  I  did  it  as  a  rule  without  anger  and  found  that 
beyond  a  bloody  nose  or  a  scratched  face,  these  fights 
did  not  amount  to  much.  I  was  small  for  my  age,  and 
like  most  runts  I  was  stronger  than  I  looked,  and  gave 
many  a  driver  boy  a  bad  surprise.  I  never  was  whipped, 
though  I  was  pummeled  severely  at  times.  When  the 
fight  grew  warm  enough  I  began  to  see  red,  and  to  cry 
like  a  baby,  boring  in  and  clinching  in  a  mad  sort  of  way ; 
and  these  young  roughs  knew  that  a  boy  who  fought  and 
cried  at  the  same  time  had  to  be  killed  before  he  would 
say  enough.  So  I  never  said  enough ;  and  in  my  second 
year  I  found  I  had  quite  a  reputation  as  a  fighter — but 
I  never  got  any  joy  out  of  it. 

If  I  could  have  forgotten  my  wish  to  see  my  mother 
it  would  have  been  in  many  ways  a  pleasant  life  to  me. 
I  was  never  tired  of  the  new  and  strange  things  I  saw — 
new  regions,  new  countries.  I  was  amazed  at  the 
Montezuma  Marsh,  with  its  queer  trade  of  selling  flags 
for  chair  seats  and  the  like — and  I  was  almost  eaten 
alive  by  the  mosquitoes  while  passing  through  it.  Our 
boat  floated  along  through  the  flags,  the  horses  on  a 
tow-path  just  wide  enough  to  enable  the  teams  to  pass, 
with  bog  on  one  side  and  canal  on  the  other,  water  birds 
whistling  and  calling,  frogs  croaking,  and  water-lilies 
dotting  every  open  pool.  My  spirits  soared  as  I  passed 
spots  where  the  view  was  not  shut  off  by  the  reeds,  and 
I  could  look  out  over  the  great  expanse  of  flags,  just  as 
my  heart  rose  when  I  first  looked  upon  the  Iowa  prairies. 
The  Fairport  level  gave  me  another  thrill — an  embank 
ment  a  hundred  feet  high  with  the  canal  on  the  top  of  it, 
a  part  of  a  seventeen-mile  level,  like  a  river  on  a  hill-top. 


30  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

We  were  a  happy  crew,  here.  Ace  was  quite  recov 
ered  from  our  temporary  difference  of  opinion — for  I 
was  treating  him  better  than  he  expected.  He  used  to 
sing  merrily  a  song  which  was  a  real  canal-chantey,  one 
of  the  several  I  heard,  the  words  of  which  ran  like  this: 

"Come,  sailors,  landsmen,  one  and  all, 
And  I'll  sing  you  the  dangers  of  the  raging  canawl ; 
For  I've  been  at  the  mercy  of  the  winds  and  the  waves, 
And  I'm  one  of  the  merry  fellows  what  expects  a 
watery  grave. 

"We  left  Albiany  about  the  break  of  day ; 

As  near  as  I  can  remember,  'twas  the  second  day  of 

May; 

We  depended  on  our  driver,  though  he  was  very  small, 
Although  we  knew  the  dangers  of  the  raging  canawl." 

The  rest  of  it  I  forget ;  but  I  remember  that  after 
Bill  had  sung  one  of  his  chanties,  like  "Messmates  hear  a 
brother  sailor  sing  the  dangers  of  the  seas,"  or,  "We 
sailed  from  the  Downs  and  fair  Plymouth  town,"  telling 
how 

"To  our  surprise, 
The  storms  did  arise, 
Attended  by  winds  and  loud  thunder; 
Our  mainmast  being  tall 
Overboard  she  did  fall, 
And  five  of  our  best  men  fell  under," 

Ace  would  pipe  up  about  the  dangers  of  the  raging 
canal ;  and  finally  this  encouraged  Paddy  to  fill  in  with 
some  song  like  this : 

"In  Dublin  City,  where  I  was  born, 

On  Stephen's  Green,  where  I  die  forlorn; 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  31 

Twas  there  I  learned  the  baking  trade, 

And  'twas  there  they  called  me  the  Roving  Blade/' 

All  the  rest  of  the  story  was  of  a  hanging.  No  wonder 
it  was  hard  sometimes  for  an  Irishman  to  reverence  the 
law.  They  sang  of  hanging  and  things  leading  up  to  it 
from  their  childhood.  I  remember,  too,  how  the  boys 
of  Iowa  used  to  sing  a  song  celebrating  the  deeds  of  the 
James  boys  of  Missouri — and  about  the  same  time  we 
had  troubles  with  horse-thieves.  There  is  a  good  deal  of 
power  in  songs  and  verses,  whether  there's  much  truth 
in  poetry  or  not. 

2 

I  am  spending  too  much  time  on  this  part  of  my  life, 
if  it  were  my  life  only  which  were  concerned ;  but  the 
Erie  Canal,  and  the  gaps  through  the  Alleghany  Moun 
tains,  are  a  part  of  the  history  of  Vandemark  Township. 
The  west  was  on  the  road,  then,  floating  down  the  Ohio, 
wagoning  or  riding  on  horseback  through  mountain 
passes,  boating  it  up  the  Mississippi  and  Missouri,  sailing 
up  the  Lakes,  swarming  along  the  Erie  Canal.  Not  only 
was  Iowa  on  the  road,  spending  a  year,  two  years,  a  gen 
eration,  two  generations  on  the  way  and  getting  a  sort  of 
wandering  and  gipsy  strain  in  her  blood,  but  all  the  West, 
and  even  a  part  of  Canada  was  moving.  We  once  had 
on  board  from  Lockport  west,  a  party  of  emigrants  from 
England  to  Ontario.  They  had  come  by  ship  from  Eng 
land  to  New  York,  by  steamboat  to  Albany  and  canal  to 
Lockport;  and  for  some  reason  had  to  take  a  deck  trip 
from  Lockport  to  Buffalo,  paying  Captain  Sproule  a  good 
price  for  passage.  Their  English  dialect  was  so  broad 
that  I  could  not  understand  it;  and  I  abandoned  to  Ace 
the  company  of  their  little  girl  who  was  one  of  a  family 


32  VANDEM ARK'S  FOLLY 

of  five — father,  mother,  and  two  boys,  besides  the  daugh 
ter.  I  suppose  that  their  descendants  are  in  Ontario  yet, 
or  scattered  out  on  the  prairies  of  Western  Canada.  Just 
so  the  people  of  the  canals  and  roads  are  in  Iowa,  and  in 
Vandemark  Township. 

Buffalo  was  a  marvel  to  me.  It  was  the  biggest  town 
I  had  ever  seen,  and  was  full  of  sailors,  emigrants,  ships, 
waterside  characters  and  trade ;  and  I  could  see,  feel, 
taste,  smell,  and  hear  the  West  everywhere.  I  was  by 
this  time  on  the  canal  almost  at  my  ease  as  a  driver ;  but 
here  I  flocked  by  myself  like  Cunningham's  bull,  instead 
of  mingling  with  the  crowds  of  boys  whom  I  found  here 
passing  a  day  or  so  in  idleness,  while  the  captains  and 
hands  amused  themselves  as  sailors  do  in  port,  and  the 
boats  made  contracts  for  east-bound  freight,  and  took  it 
on.  Whenever  I  could  I  attached  myself  to  Captain 
Sproule  like  a  lost  dog,  not  thinking  that  perhaps  he 
would  not  care  to  be  tagged  around  by  a  child  like  me ; 
and  thus  I  saw  things  that  should  not  have  been  seen 
by  a  boy,  or  by  any  one  else — things  that  I  never  forgot, 
and  that  afterward  had  an  influence  on  me  at  a  critical 
time  in  my  life.  There  were  days  spent  in  grog-shops, 
there  were  quarrels  and  brawls,  and  some  fights,  drunken 
men  calling  themselves  and  one  another  horrible  names 
and  bragging  of  their  vices,  women  and  men  living  in  a 
terrible  imitation  of  pleasure.  I  have  often  wondered  as 
I  have  seen  my  boys  brought  up  cleanly  and  taught  steady 
and  industrious  lives  in  a  settled  community,  how  they 
would  look  upon  the  things  I  saw  and  lived  through,  and 
how  well  they  could  have  stood  the  things  that  were  reach 
to  drag  me  down  to  the  worst  vices  and  crimes.  I  moved 
through  all  this  in  a  sort  of  daze,  as  if  it  did  not  concern 
me,  not  even  thinking  much  less  of  Captain  Sproule  for 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  33 

his  doings,  some  of  which  I  did  not  even  understand :  for 
remember  I  was  a  very  backward  boy  for  my  age.  This 
was  probably  a  good  thing  for  me — a  very  good  thing. 
There  are  things  in  the  Bible  which  children  read  without 
knowing  their  meaning,  and  are  not  harmed  by  them.  I 
was  harmed  by  what  I  saw  in  the  book  of  life  now 
opened  to  me,  but  not  so  much  as  one  might  think. 


One  evening,  in  a  water-front  saloon,  Captain  Sproule 
and  another  man — a  fellow  who  was  a  shipper  of  freight, 
as  I  remember — spent  an  hour  or  so  with  two  women 
whose  bad  language  and  painted  faces  would  have  told 
their  story  to  any  older  person ;  but  to  me  they  were  just 
acquaintances  of  the  captain,  and  that  was  all.  After  a 
while  the  four  left  the  saloon  together,  and  I  followed,  as 
I  followed  the  captain  everywhere. 

"That  young  one  had  better  be  sent  to  bed,"  said  the 
captain's  friend,  pointing  to  me. 

"Better  go  back  to  the  boat,  Jake,"  said  the  captain, 
laughing  in  a  tipsy  sort  of  way. 

"I  don't  know  where  it  is,"  said  I ;  "it's  been  towed 
off  somewhere." 

"That's  so,"  said  the  captain,  "I've  got  to  hunt  it  up 
myself — or  stay  all  night  in  a  tavern.  Wai,  come  along. 
I'll  be  going  home  early." 

The  other  man  gave  a  sort  of  sarcastic  laugh.  "Bring 
up  your  bojs  as  you  like,  Cap'n,"  said  he.  "He'll  come 
to  it  anyhow  in  a  year  or  so  by  himself,  I  guess." 

"I'm  going  home  early,"  said  the  captain. 

"Course  you  be,"  said  the  woman,  seizing  the  captain's 
arm.  "Come  on,  Bubby !" 


34  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

There  were  more  drinks  where  we  went,  and  other 
women  like  those  in  our  party.  I  could  not  understand 
why  they  behaved  in  so  wild  and  immodest  a  manner,  but 
thought  dimly  that  it  was  the  liquor.  In  the  meantime  I 
grew  very  sleepy,  being  worn  out  by  a  day  of  excitement 
and  wonder ;  and  sitting  down  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  I 
lopped  over  on  the  soft  carpet  and  went  to  sleep.  The  last 
I  heard  was  the  sound  of  an  accordion  played  by  a  negro 
who  had  been  invited  in,  and  the  scuff  of  feet  as  they 
danced,  with  loud  and  broken  speech,  much  of  which  was 
quite  blind  to  me.  Anyhow,  I  lost  myself  for  a  long  time, 
as  I  felt,  when  some  one  shook  me  gently  by  the  shoulder 
and  woke  me  up.  I  thought  I  was  at  home,  in  my  attic 
bed,  and  that  it  was  my  mother  awakening  me  to  go  to 
work  in  the  factory. 

"Ma,"  I  said.    "Is  that  you,  ma !" 

A  woman  was  bending  over  me,  her  breasts  almost 
falling  from  the  low-cut  red  dress  she  wore.  She  was 
painted  and  powdered  like  the  rest,  and  her  face  looked 
drawn  and  pale  over  her  scarlet  gown.  As  I  pronounced 
the  name  I  always  called  my  mother,  I  seem  to  remember 
that  her  expression  changed  from  the  wild  and  reckless 
look  I  was  becoming  used  to,  to  something  like  what 
I  had  always  seen  in  my  mother's  eyes. 

"Who  you  driving  for,  Johnny  ?"  she  asked. 

"Captain  Sproule,"  said  I.  "Where  is  he?"  For  on 
looking  about  I  saw  that  there  was  no  one  there  but  this 
woman  and  myself. 

"He'll  be  back  after  a  while,"  said  she.  "Poor  young 
one!  Come  with  me  and  get  a  good  sleep." 

I  was  numb  with  sleep,  and  staggered  when  I  stood 
up ;  and  she  put  her  arm  around  me  as  we  moved  toward 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  35 

the  door,  where  we  were  met  by  two  men,  canallers  or 
sailors,  by  their  looks,  who  stopped  her  with  drunken 
greetings. 

"Ketchin'  em  young,  Sally,"  said  one  of  them.  "Wot 
will  the  world  come  to,  Jack,  when  younkers  like  this  get 
a-goin'  ?  Drop  the  baby,  Sally,  and  come  along  o'  me !" 

The  woman  looked  at  him  a  moment  steadily. 

"Let  me  go,"  said  she ;  "I  don't  want  anything  to  do 
with  you." 

"Don't,  eh?"  said  he.  "Git  away,  Bub,  an'  let  your 
betters  have  way." 

I  clung  closer  to  her  side,  and  looked  at  him  rather 
defiantly.  He  drew  back  his  flat  hand  to  slap  me  over; 
but  the  woman  pulled  me  behind  her,  and  faced  him,  with 
a  drawn  knife  in  her  hand.  He  made  as  if  to  take  it 
from  her ;  but  his  companion  held  him  back. 

"Do  you  want  six  inches  o'  cold  steel  in  your  liver?" 
he  asked.  "Let  her  be.  There's  plenty  o'  others." 

"My  money  is  jest  as  good's  any  one  else's,"  said  the 
first.  "Jest  as  good's  any  one  else's;"  and  began 
wrangling  with  his  friend. 

The  woman  pushed  me  before  her  and  we  went  up 
stairs  to  a  bedroom,  the  door  of  which  she  closed  and 
locked.  She  said  nothing  about  what  had  taken  place 
below,  and  I  at  once  made  up  my  mind  that  it  had  been 
some  sort  of  joke. 

"You  oughtn't  to  sleep  on  that  floor,"  said  she. 
"You'll  take  your  death  o'  cold.  Lay  down  here,  and 
have  a  good  comfortable  nap.  I'll  see  that  Captain 
Sproule  finds  you." 

I  started  to  lie  down  in  my  clothes.  "Take  off  them 
clothes,"  said  she,  as  if  astonished.  "Do  you  think  I  want 


36  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

my  bed  all  dirtied  up  with  'em  ?"  And  she  began  undress 
ing  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  baby.  She  was  so  tender  and 
motherly  about  it  that  I  permitted  her  to  strip  me  to  my 
shirt,  and  then  turned  in.  The  bed  was  soft,  and  sleep 
began  to  come  back  to  me.  I  saw  my  new  friend  pre 
paring  for  bed,  and  presently  I  awoke  to  find  her  lying 
by  me,  and  holding  me  in  her  arms :  I  heard  her  sitheing,* 
and  I  was  sure  she  was  crying.  This  woke  me  up,  and 
I  lay  wondering  if  there  was  anything  I  could  do  for  her, 
but  I  said  nothing.  Pretty  soon  there  came  a  loud  rap 
at  the  door,  and  a  woman  asked  to  be  let  in. 

"What  do  you  want  ?"  asked  my  friend,  getting  out  of 
bed  as  if  scared,  and  beginning  to  put  on  her  clothes.  I 
hustled  out  and  began  dressing — a  very  short  job  with 
me.  In  the  meantime  the  woman  at  the  door  grew  louder 
and  more  commanding  in  her  demand,  so  much  so,  that 
before  she  was  fully  dressed,  my  strange  friend  opened 
the  door,  and  there  stood  a  great  fleshy  woman,  wearing 
a  lot  of  jewelry;  red-faced,  and  very  angry.  I  can't  re 
member  much  that  was  said ;  but  I  remember  that  the  fat 
woman  kept  saying,  "What  do  you  mean?  What  do  you 
mean?  I  want  you  to  understand  that  my  guests  have 
their  rights.  One  man's  money  is  as  good  as  another's," 
and  the  like.  "Whose  brat  is  this?"  she  finally  asked, 
pointing  at  me. 

"He's  driving  for  a  man  with  money,"  said  my  friend 
sarcastically. 

"Who  you  driving  for,  Johnny?"  she  asked;  and  I 
told  her. 


*The  writer  insists  that  "sitheing"  is  quite  a  different  thing 
from  sighing,  being  a  long-drawn,  quivering  sigh.  In  this  I 
think  he  is  correct. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  37 

"Captain  Sproule  is  down-stairs,"  said  she.  "He's 
looking  for  you.  Go  on  down !  And  as  for  you,  Madam, 
you  get  out  of  my  house,  and  don't  come  back  until  you 
can  please  my  visitors — you  knife-drawin'  hussy!" 

I  went  down  to  the  room  where  the  captain  had  left 
me ;  and  just  as  he  had  begun  making  some  sly  blind 
jokes  at  my  expense,  the  woman  who  had  befriended  me 
came  down,  followed  by  the  fat  virago,  cursing  her  and 
ordering  her  out. 

"Don't  let  'em  hurt  her!''  said  I.  "She's  a  good 
woman.  She  put  me  to  bed,  and  was  good  to  me.  Don't 
let  'em  hurt  her !" 

We  all  went  out  together,  the  captain  asking  me  what 
I  meant ;  and  then  went  on  walking  beside  the  woman, 
whom  he  called  Sally,  and  trying  to  understand  the  case. 
T  heard  her  say,  "Mine  would  be  about  that  size  if  he  had 
lived.  I  s'pose  every  woman  must  be  a  darned  fool  once 
in  a  while!"  The  rest  of  the  case  I  did  not  understand 
very  well ;  but  I  knew  that  she  went  to  a  tavern  where 
we  all  spent  the  night,  and  that  the  captain  seemed  very 
thoughtful  when  we  went  to  bed  at  last — the  second  time 
for  me.  When  we  finally  pulled  out  of  Buffalo  for  the 
East,  Sally  was  on  the  boat — not  a  very  uncommon  thing 
in  those  days ;  but  the  captain  was  very  good  and  respect 
ful  to  her  until  we  reached  a  little  village  two  or  three 
days'  journey  eastward,  when  Sally  got  off  the  boat  after 
kissing  me  good-by  and  telling  me  to  be  good,  and  try  to 
grow  up  and  be  a  good  man ;  and  went  off  on  a  country 
road  as  if  she  knew  where  she  was  going. 

"Where  did  Sally  go?"  I  asked  of  Captain  Sproule. 

"Home,"  said  he;  "and  may  God  have  mercy  on  her 
soul !" 


33  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

4 

I  looked  forward  more  longingly  than  ever  to  the 
time  when  I  should  be  able  to  drop  off  the  boat  at  Tempe, 
and  run  up  to  see  my  mother;  and  I  fixed  it  up  with 
Captain  Sproule  so  that  when  we  made  our  return  trip 
I  was  to  be  allowed  to  stop  over  a  day  with  her,  and 
taking  a  fast  boat  catch  up  with  our  own  craft  farther 
east.  I  was  proud  of  the  fact  that  I  had  two  good  suits 
of  clothes,  a  good  hat  and  boots,  and  money  in  my  pocket. 
I  expected  to  turn  my  money  out  on  the  table  and  leave 
it  with  her.  I  thought  a  good  deal  of  my  meeting  with 
John  Rucker,  and  hoped  fervently  that  I  should  find  him 
absent  on  one  of  his  peddling  trips,  in  which  case  I  meant 
to  stay  over  night  with  my  mother ;  and  I  seriously  pon 
dered  the  matter  as  to  whether  or  not  I  should  fight 
Rucker  if  he  attacked  me,  as  I  expected  he  might ;  and 
Ace  and  I  had  many  talks  as  to  the  best  way  for  me  to 
fight  him,  if  I  should  decide  on  such  a  course.  Ace  was 
quite  sure  I  could  best  Rucker;  but  I  did  not  share  this 
confidence.  A  fight  with  a  boy  was  quite  a  different 
thing  from  a  battle  with  a  man,  even  though  he  might  be 
a  coward  as  I  was  sure  Rucker  was. 

This  proposed  visit  became  the  greatest  thing  in  my 
life,  a  great  adventure,  as  we  glided  back  from  Buffalo^ 
past  the  locks  at  Lockport,  where  there  was  much  fight 
ing;  past  lock  after  lock,  where  the  lock-tenders  tried  to 
sell  magic  oils,  balsams  and  liniments  for  man  and  beast, 
and  once  in  a  while  did  so ;  and  to  whom  Ace  became  a 
customer  for  hair-oil ;  after  using  which  he  sought  the 
attention  of  girls  by  the  canal  side,  and  also  those  who 
might  be  passengers  on  our  boat,  or  members  of  the  emi 
grant  families  which  crowded  the  boats  going  west ;  past 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  39 

the  hill  at  Palmyra,  from  which  Joseph  Smith,  the  Mor 
mon  prophet,  claimed  to  have  dug  the  gold  plates  of  the 
Book  of  Mormon ;  past  the  Fairport  level  and  embank 
ment  ;  for  three  days  floating  so  untroubled  along  the 
Rochester  level  without  a  single  lock ;  through  the  Mon- 
tezuma  Marsh  again  ;  and  then  in  a  short  time  would  come 
Tempe,  and  maybe  my  great  meeting  with  Rucker,  my 
longed-for  visit  to  my  mother.  And  then  Captain 
Sproule  got  a  contract  for  a  cargo  of  salt  to  Buffalo,  and 
we  turned  westward  again !  It  would  be  late  in  the  fall 
before  we  returned ;  but  I  should  have  more  money  then, 
and  should  be  stronger  and  a  better  fighter. 

Canal-boating  was  fast  becoming  a  routine  thing  with 
me ;  and  I  must  leave  out  all  my  adventures  on  that  voy 
age  to  Buffalo,  and  back  to  Tempe.  I  do  not  remember 
them  very  clearly  anyhow. 

One  thing  happened  which  I  must  describe,  because  it 
is  important.  We  were  somewhere  west  of  Jordan,  when 
we  met  a  packet  boat  going  west.  It  was  filled  with  pas 
sengers,  and  drew  near  to  us  with  the  sound  of  singing 
and  musical  instruments.  It  was  crowded  with  emi 
grants  always  hopeful  and  merry,  bound  westward. 
Evidently  the  hold  had  not  been  able  to  take  in  all  the 
household  goods  of  the  passengers,  for  there  was  a  deck- 
load  of  these  things,  covered  with  tarpaulins. 

I  was  sitting  on  the  deck  of  our  boat,  wondering 
when  I  should  join  the  western  movement.  When  I  got 
old  enough,  and  had  money  enough,  I  was  determined  to 
go  west  and  seek  my  fortune ;  for  I  always  felt  that 
canalling  was,  somehow,  beneath  what  I  wanted  to  do  and 
become.  The  packet  swept  past  us,  giving  me  a  good  deal 
the  same  glimpse  into  a  different  sort  of  life  that  a  deck- 


40  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

hand  on  a  freighter  has  when  he  gazes  at  a  liner  ablaze 
with  lights  and  echoing  with  music. 

On  the  deck  of  the  packet  sat  a  group  of  people  who 
were  listening  to  a  tall  stooped  man,  who  seemed  to  be 
addressing  them  on  some  matter  of  interest.  There  was 
something  familiar  in  his  appearance ;  and  I  kept  my  eye 
on  him  as  we  went  by. 

As  the  boat  passed  swiftly  astern,  I  saw  that  it  was 
John  Rucker. 

He  was  better  dressed  than  I  had  ever  seen  him ;  his 
beard  was  trimmed,  and  he  was  the  center  of  his  group. 
He  was  talking  to  a  hunchback — a  strange-looking  per 
son  with  a  black  beard.  I  wondered  what  had  made  such 
a  change  in  Rucker ;  but  I  was  overjoyed  at  the  thought 
that  he  was  off  on  a  peddling  trip,  and  that  I  should  not 
meet  him  at  home. 

We  floated  along  toward  Tempe  in  a  brighter  world 
than  I  had  known  since  the  time  when  I  felt  my  bosom 
swell  at  the  wearing  of  the  new  cap  my  mother  had  made 
for  me,  the  day  when  I,  too  young  to  be  sad,  had  thrown 
the  clod  over  the  stone  fence  as  we  went  down  to  the  great 
river  to  meet  John  Rucker. 

5 

We  tied  up  for  the  night  some  seven  miles  west  of 
Tempe,  but  I  could  not  sleep.  I  felt  that  I  must  see  my 
mother  that  night,  and  so  I  trudged  along  the  tow-path  in 
the  light  of  a  young  moon,  which  as  I  plodded  on  threw 
my  shadow  along  the  road  before  me.  I  walked  treading 
on  my  own  shadow,  a  very  different  boy  from  the  one  who 
had  come  over  this  same  route  sobbing  himself  almost  into 
convulsions  not  many  months  before. 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  41 

I  was  ready  to  swap  canal  repartee  with  any  of  the 
canallers.  It  had  become  my  world.  I  felt  myself  a  good 
deal  of  a  man.  I  could  see  my  mother's  astonished  look 
as  she  opened  the  door,  and  heard  me  in  the  gruffest 
voice  I  could  command  asking  her  if  she  could  tell  me 
where  Mrs.  Rucker  lived — and  yet,  I  felt  anxious. 
Somehow  a  fear  that  all  was  not  right  grew  in  me;  and 
when  I  reached  the  path  leading  up  to  the  house  I  turned 
pale,  I  feel  sure,  to  see  that  there  was  no  light. 

I  tapped  at  the  door;  but  there  was  no  response.  I 
felt  for  the  key  in  the  place  where  we  used  to  leave  it, 
but  no  key  was  there. 

There  were  no  curtains,  and  as  I  looked  into  a  room 
with  windows  at  the  opposite  side,  I  saw  no  furniture. 
The  house  was  vacant.  I  went  to  the  little  leanto  which 
was  used  as  a  summer  kitchen,  and  tried  a  window  which 
I  knew  how  to  open.  It  yielded  to  my  old  trick,  and  I 
crawled  in.  As  I  had  guessed,  the  place  was  empty.  I 
called  to  my  mother,  and  was  scared,  I  can't  tell  how 
much,  at  the  echo  of  my  voice  in  the  deserted  cabin.  I 
ventured  up  the  stairs,  though  I  was  mortally  afraid,  and 
found  nothing  save  the  litter  of  removal.  I  felt  about  the 
closet  in  my  mother's  bedroom,  to  find  out  if  any  of  her 
clothes  were  there,  half  expecting  that  she  would  be 
where  I  wanted  to  find  her  even  in  the  vacant  house. 
Down  in  a  corner  I  felt  some  small  article,  which  I  soon 
found  was  a  worn-out  shoe.  With  this,  the  only  thing 
left  to  remember  her  by,  I  crawled  out  of  the  window, 
shut  it  carefully  behind  me — for  I  had  been  brought  up 
to  leave  things  as  I  found  them — and  stood  alone,  the 
most  forlorn  and  deserted  boy  in  America,  as  I  truly 
believe. 


42  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

The  moon  had  gone  down,  and  it  was  dark.  There 
was  frost  on  the  dead  grass,  and  I  went  out  under  the  old 
apple-tree  and  sat  down.  What  should  I  do  ?  Where  was 
my  mother  ?  She  was  the  only  one  in  the  world  whom  I 
cared  for  or  who  loved  me.  She  was  gone,  it  was  night, 
I  was  alone  and  hungry  and  cold  and  lost.  Perhaps  some 
of  the  neighbors  might  know  where  John  Rucker  had 
taken  my  mother — this  thought  came  to  me  only  after  I 
had  sat  there  until  every  house  was  dark.  The  people  had 
all  gone  to  bed.  I  tried  to  think  of  some  neighbor  to 
whom  my  mother  might  have  told  her  destination  when 
she  moved ;  but  I  could  recall  none  of  that  sort.  She  had 
been  too  unhappy,  here  in  Tempe,  to  make  friends.  So  I 
sat  there  shivering  until  morning,  unwilling  to  go  away, 
altogether  bewildered,  quite  at  my  wits'  end,  steeped  in 
despair.  The  world  seemed  too  hard  and  tough  for  me. 

In  the  morning  I  asked  at  every  house  if  the  people 
knew  Mrs.  Rucker,  and  where  she  had  gone,  but  got  no 
help.  One  woman  knew  her,  and  had  employed  her  as  a 
seamstress ;  but  had  found  the  house  vacant  the  last  time 
she  had  sent  her  work. 

"Is  she  a  relative  of  yours?"  she  asked. 

"She  is  my "  I  remember  I  stopped  here  and 

looked  away  a  long  time  before  I  could  finish  the  reply, 
"She  is  my  mother." 

"And  where  were  you,  my  poor  boy,"  said  she,  "when 
she  moved?" 

"I  was  away  at  work,"  I  replied. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "she  left  word  for  you  somewhere, 
you  may  be  sure  of  that.  Where  did  you  stay  last  night  ?" 

"I  sat  under  a  tree,"  said  I,  "in  the  yard — up  where 
we  used  to  live." 


I  SEE  THE  WORLD  43 

"And  where  did  you  get  breakfast?"  she  asked. 

"I  wasn't  hungry,"  I  answered.  "I've  been  hunting 
for  my  mother  since  daylight." 

"You  poor  child!"  said  she.  "Come  right  into  the 
kitchen  and  I'll  get  you  some  breakfast.  Come  in,  and 
we'll  find  out  how  you  can  find  your  mother !" 

While  she  got  me  the  breakfast  which  I  needed  as 
badly  as  any  meal  I  ever  ate,  she  questioned  me  as  to 
relatives,  friends,  habits,  and  everything  which  a  good 
detective  would  want  to  know  in  forming  a  theory  as  to 
how  a  clue  might  be  obtained.  She  suggested  that  I  find 
every  man  in  the  village  who  had  a  team  and  did  hauling, 
and  ask  each  one  if  he  had  moved  Mr.  Rucker's  family. 

"Why  didn't  she  write  to  you  ?"  she  finally  queried. 

"She  didn't  know  where  I  was,"  I  replied. 

"Did  she  ever  leave  word  for  you  anywhere/'  asked 
the  woman,  "before  you  ran  away?" 

"We  had  a  place  we  called  our  post-office,"  I 
answered.  "An  old  hollow  apple-tree.  We  used  to  leave 
letters  for  each  other  in  that.  It  is  the  tree  I  sat  under 
all  night." 

"Look  there,"  said  the  woman.  "You'll  find  her! 
She  wouldn't  have  gone  without  leaving  a  trace." 

Without  stopping  to  thank  her  for  her  breakfast  and 
her  sympathy,  I  ran  at  the  top  of  my  speed  for  the  old 
apple-tree.  I  felt  in  the  hollow — it  seemed  to  be  filled 
with  nothing  but  leaves.  Just  as  I  was  giving  up,  I 
touched  something  stiffer  than  an  autumn  leaf,  and  pull 
ing  it  out  found  a  letter,  all  discolored  by  wet  and  mold, 
but  addressed  to  me  in  my  mother's  handwriting.  I  tore 
it  open  and  read: 


44  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"My  poor,  wandering  boy :  We  are  going  away — I 
don't  know  where.  This  only  I  know,  we  are  going  west 
to  settle  somewhere  up  the  Lakes.  The  lawsuit  is  ended, 
and  we  got  the  money  your  father  left  me,  and  are  going 
west  to  get  a  new  and  better  start  in  the  world.  If  you  will 
write  me  at  the  post-office  in  Buffalo,  I  will  inquire  there 
for  mail.  I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  get  this !  I  wonder 
if  I  shall  ever  see  you  again !  I  shall  find  some  way  to 
send  word  to  you.  Mr.  Rucker  says  he  knows  the  captain 
of  the  boat  you  work  on,  and  can  get  his  address  for  me  in 
Syracuse — then  I  will  write  you.  I  am  going  very  far 
away,  and  if  you  ever  see  this,  and  never  see  me  again, 
keep  it  always,  and  whenever  you  see  it  remember  that 
I  would  always  have  died  willingly  for  you,  and  that  I 
am  going  to  build  up  for  you  a  fortune  which  will  give 
you  a  better  life  than  I  have  lived.  Be  a  good  boy  al 
ways.  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  go,  but  I  have  to!" 

It  was  not  signed.  I  read  it  slowly,  because  I  was 
not  very  good  at  reading,  and  turned  my  eyes  west — 
where  my  mother  had  gone.  I  had  lost  her !  How  could 
any  one  be  found  who  had  disappeared  into  that  region 
which  swallowed  up  thousands  every  month?  I  had  no 
clue.  I  did  not  believe  that  Rucker  would  try  to  help 
her  find  me.  She  had  been  kidnaped  away  from  me.  I 
threw  myself  down  on  the  dead  grass,  and  found  the 
worn-out  shoe  I  had  picked  up  in  the  closet.  It  had  every 
curve  of  her  foot — that  foot  which  had  taken  so  many 
weary  steps  for  me.  I  put  my  forehead  down  noon  it, 
and  lay  there  a  long  time — so  long  that  when  I  roused 
myself  and  went  down  to  the  canal,  I  had  not  sat  on  my 
old  stump  a  minute  when  I  saw  Captain  Sproule's  boat 
approaching  from  the  west.  With  a  heavy  heart  I 
stepped  aboard,  carrying  the  worn-out  shoe  and  the  letter, 
which  I  have  yet.  The  boat  was  the  only  home  left  me. 
It  had  become  mv  world. 


CHAPTER  IV 

I  BECOME  A  SAILOR,  AND  FIND  A  CLUE 

F  WAS  just  past  thirteen  when  I  had  my  great  wrestle 
•^  with  loneliness  and  desertion  that  night  under  the 
old  apple-tree  at  Tempe ;  and  the  next  three  and  a  half 
years  are  not  of  much  concern  to  the  reader  who  is  inter 
ested  only  in  the  history  of  Vandemark  Township.  I 
was  just  a  growing  boy.  tussling,  more  alone  than  I 
should  have  been,  and  with  no  guidance  or  direction, 
with  that  problem  of  keeping  soul  and  body  together, 
which,  after  all,  is  the  thing  with  which  all  of  us  are  nat 
urally  obliged  to  cope  all  through  our  lives.  I  lived  here 
and  there,  most  of  the  time  looking  to  Eben  Sproule  as  a 
prop  and  support,  as  a  boy  must  look  to  some  one,  or 
fall  into  bad  and  dangerous  ways — and  even  then,  maybe 
he  will. 

I  was  a  backward  boy,  and  this  saved  me  from  some 
deadfalls,  I  guess ;  and  I  had  the  Dutch  hard  mouth  and 
a  tendency  to  feel  my  ground  and  see  how  the  land  lay, 
which  made  me  take  so  long  to  balk  at  any  new  vice  or 
virtue  that  the  impulse  or  temptation  was  sometimes  past 
before  I  could  get  ready  to  embrace  it.  I  guess  there  are 
some  who  may  read  this  who  have  let  chances  for  sinful 
joys  go  by  while  an  inward  debate  went  on  in  their  own 
souls ;  and  if  they  will  only  own  up  to  it,  found  themselves 

45 


46  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

afterward  guiltily  sorry  for  not  falling  from  grace.  "As 
a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart,  so  is  he,"  is  Scripture,  and 
must  be  true  if  rightly  understood;  but  I  wonder  if  it 
is  as  bad  for  one  of  us  tardy  people  to  regret  not  having 
sinned,  as  it  would  have  been  if  he  had  been  quicker  and 
done  so.  I  hardly  think  it  can  be  as  bad;  for  many  a 
saint  must  have  had  such  experiences — which  really  is 
thinking  both  right  and  wrong,  and  doing  right,  even  if 
he  did  think  wrong  afterward. 

That  first  winter,  I  lived  on  Captain  Sproule's  farm, 
and  had  my  board,  washing  and  mending.  His  sister 
kept  house  for  him,  and  his  younger  brother,  Finley, 
managed  the  place  summers,  with  such  help  in  handling 
it  as  the  captain  had  time  to  give  when  he  passed  the  farm 
on  his  voyages.  It  was  quite  a  stock  farm,  and  here  I 
learned  something  about  the  handling  of  cattle, — and  in 
those  days  this  meant  breaking  and  working  them.  It 
was  a  hard  winter,  and  there  was  so  much  work  on  the 
farm  that  I  got  only  one  month's  schooling. 

The  teacher  was  a  man  named  Lockwood.  He  kept 
telling  us  that  we  ought  to  read  about  farming,  and  study 
the  business  by  which  we  expected  to  live ;  and  this  made 
a  deep  impression  on  me.  Lockwood  was  a  real  teacher, 
and  like  all  such  worked  without  realizing  it  on  stuff 
more  lasting  than  steel  or  stone, — young,  soft  human  be 
ings.  I  did  not  see  that  there  was  much  to  study  about  as 
to  driving  on  the  canal;  and  when  I  asked  him  that  he 
said  that  the  business  of  taking  care  of  the  horses  and 
feeding  them  was  something  that  ought  to  be  closely 
studied  if  I  expected  to  be  a  farmer.  This  looked  reason 
able  to  me ;  and  I  soon  got  to  be  one  of  those  driver  boys 
who  were  noted  for  the  sleekness  and  fatness  of  their 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  47 

teams,  and  began  getting  the  habit  of  studying  any  task 
I  had  to  do.  But  I  was  more  interested  in  cattle  than 
anything  else,  and  was  sorry  when  spring  came  and  we 
unmoored  the  old  boat  and  pulled  down  to  Albany  for  a 
cargo  west.  This  summer  was  like  the  last,  except  that 
I  was  now  a  skilled  driver,  larger,  stronger,  and  more 
confident  than  before. 

I  used  to  ask  leave  to  go  on  ahead  on  some  fast  boat 
when  we  drew  near  to  the  Sproule  farm,  so  I  could  spend 
a  day  or  two  at  farm  work,  see  the  family,  and  better 
than  this,  I  am  afraid — for  they  were  pretty  good  to  me — 
look  the  cattle  over,  pet  and  feed  the  calves,  colts  and 
lambs,  count  the  little  pigs  and  generally  enjoy  myself. 
On  these  packet  boats,  too,  I  could  talk  with  travelers, 
and  try  to  strike  the  trail  of  John  Rucker. 

I  had  one  never-failing  subject  of  conversation  with 
the  Sproules  and  all  my  other  acquaintances — how  to 
find  my  mother.  We  went  over  the  whole  matter  a 
thousand  times.  I  had  no  post-office  address,  and  my 
mother  had  depended  on  Rucker's  getting  Captain 
Sproule's  address  at  Syracuse — which  of  course  he  had 
never  meant  to  do — and  had  not  asked  me  to  inquire  at 
any  place  for  mail.  I  wrote  letters  to  her  at  Buffalo  as 
she  had  asked  me  to  do  in  her  letter,  but  they  were  re 
turned  unclaimed.  It  was  plain  that  Rucker  meant  to 
give  me  the  slip,  and  had  done  so.  He  could  be  relied 
upon  to  balk  every  effort  my  mother  might  make  to  find 
me.  I  inquired  for  letters  at  the  post-offices  in  Buffalo, 
Syracuse,  Albany  and  Tempe  at  every  chance,  but  finally 
gave  up  in  despair. 


48  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

2 

I  had  only  one  hope,  and  that  was  to  find  the  hump 
backed  man  with  the  black  beard — the  man  Rucker  was 
talking  to  on  the  boat  we  had  passed  on  our  voyage  east 
ward  before  I  found  my  home  deserted.  This  was  a  very 
slim  chance,  but  it  was  all  there  was  left.  Captain  Sproule 
had  noticed  him,  and  said  he  had  seen  him  a  great  many 
times  before.  He  was  a  land  agent,  who  made  it  a  busi 
ness  to  get  emigrants  to  go  west,  away  up  the  lakes 
somewhere. 

"If  your  stepfather  had  any  money,"  said  the  captain, 
"you  can  bet  that  hunchback  tried  to  bamboozle  him  into 
some  land  deal,  and  probably  did.  And  if  he  did,  he'll 
remember  him  and  his  name,  and  where  he  left  the  canal 
or  the  Lakes,  and  maybe  where  he  located." 

"I  must  watch  for  him,"  I  said. 

"We'll  all  watch  for  him,"  said  the  captain. 

Paddy  was  not  with  us  the  next  summer;  but  Bill 
was,  and  so  was  Ace,  with  whom  I  was  now  on  the  best 
of  terms.  We  all  agreed  to  keep  our  eyes  peeled  for  a 
hunchback  with  a  black  beard.  Bill  said  he'd  spear  him 
with  a  boathook  as  soon  as  he  hove  in  sight  for  fear  he'd 
get  away.  Ace  was  sure  the  hunchback  was  a  witch* 
who  had  spirited  off  my  folks;  and  looked  upon  the 
situation  without  much  hope.  He  would  agree  to  sing 
out  if  he  saw  this  monster;  but  that  was  as  far  as  he 
would  promise  to  help  me. 

The  summer  went  by  with  no  news  and  no  hunch 
back;  and  that  winter  I  stayed  with  an  aunt  of  Captain 


*"Witch"   in   American    dialect   is   of   the   common   gender. 
'Wizard"  has  no  place  in  the  vocabulary. — G.  v.  d.  1VT. 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  49 

Sproule's,  taking  care  of  her  stock.  I  got  five  dollars  a 
month,  and  my  keep,  but  no  schooling.  She  wanted  me 
to  stay  the  summer  with  her,  and  offered  me  what  was 
almost  a  man's  wages ;  which  shows  how  strong  I  was 
getting,  and  how  much  of  a  farmer  I  was.  I  did  stay 
and  helped  through  the  spring's  work;  but  on  Captain 
Sproule's  second  passing  of  Mrs.  Fogg's  farm,  I  joined 
him,  not  as  a  driver,  but  as  a  full  hand.  I  kept  thinking 
all  the  time  of  my  mother,  and  felt  that  if  I  kept  to  the 
canal  I  surely  should  find  some  trace  of  her.  In  this  I 
was  doing  what  any  detective  would  have  done;  for 
everything  sooner  or  later  passed  through  the  Erie  Canal 
— news,  goods  and  passengers.  But  I  had  little  hope 
when  I  thought  of  the  flood  which  surged  back  and  forth 
through  this  river  of  news,  and  of  the  little  bit  of  a  net 
with  which  I  fished  it  for  information. 

All  this  time  the  stream  of  emigration  and  trade 
swelled,  and  swelled  until  it  became  a  torrent.  I  thought 
at  times  that  all  the  people  in  the  world  had  gone  crazy  to 
move  west.  We  took  families,  even  neighborhoods,  house 
hold  goods,  live  stock,  and  all  the  time  more  and  more 
people.  They  were  talking  about  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Michigan  and  Wisconsin,  and  once  in  a  while  the  word 
Iowa  was  heard;  and  one  family  astonished  us  by  say 
ing  that  they  were  going  to  Texas. 

The  Mormons  had  already  made  their  great  migration 
to  Utah,  and  the  Northwestern  Trail  across  the  plains  to 
Oregon  and  to  California  took  its  quota  of  gold-seekers 
every  year.  John  C.  Fremont  had  crossed  the  continent 
to  California,  and  caused  me  to  read  my  first  book,  The 
Life  of  Kit  Cwrson. 

Bill,  who  never  could  speak  in  hard  enough  terms 


50  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

about  sailing  on  the  mud-puddle  Lakes,  which  he 
had  never  done  as  yet,  once  went  to  Pittsburgh,  meaning 
to  go  from  there  down  the  Ohio  and  up  the  Missouri. 
He  had  heard  of  the  Missouri  River  fur-trade,  and  big 
wages  on  the  steamboats  carrying  emigrants  from  St. 
Louis  up-stream  to  Nebraska,  Iowa  and  Dakota  Terri 
tory,  and  bringing  back  furs  and  hides.  But  at  Pitts 
burgh  he  was  turned  back  by  news  of  the  outbreak  of 
cholera  at  New  Orleans,  a  disease  which  had  struck  us 
with  terror  along  the  canal  two  or  three  years  before. 
That  summer  there  were  medicine  pedlers  working  on  all 
the  boats,  selling  a  kind  of  stuff  they  called  "thieves' 
vinegar"  which  was  claimed  to  be  a  medicine  that  was 
used  in  the  old  country  somewhere  by  thieves  who  robbed 
the  infected  houses  in  safety,  protected  by  this  wonderful 
"vinegar" ;  and  only  told  how  it  was  made  to  save  their 
lives  when  they  were  about  to  be  hanged.  A  man  of 
fered  me  a  bottle  of  this  at  Rochester,  for  five  dollars, 
and  finally  came  down  to  fifty  cents.  This  made  me 
think  it  was  of  no  use,  and  I  did  not  buy,  though  just 
before  I  had  been  wondering  whether  I  had  not  better 
borrow  the  money  of  Captain  Sproule;  so  I  saved  my 
money,  which  was  getting  to  be  a  habit  of  mine. 

California,  the  Rockies,  the  fur-trade,  the  Ohio  Val 
ley,  the  new  cities  up  the  Lakes  and  the  new  farms  in  the 
woods  back  of  them,  and  some  few  tales  of  the  prairies — 
all  these  voices  of  the  West  kept  calling  us  more  loudly 
and  plainly  every  year,  and  every  year  I  grew  stronger 
and  more  confident  of  myself. 

The  third  year  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
get  work  on  a  passenger  boat  so  as  to  be  able  to  see  and 
talk  with  more  people  who  were  going  up  and  down  the 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  51 

Lakes  and  the  canal.  I  went  from  one  to  another  as  I 
met  folks  who  were  coming  back  from  the  West,  and 
asked  every  one  if  he  had  known  a  man  out  west  named 
John  Rucker ;  but,  though  I  found  traces  of  two  or  three 
Ruckers  in  the  course  of  the  three  years,  it  did  not  take 
long  in  each  case  to  find  out  that  it  was  not  the  man  I 
hated  so,  and  so  much  wanted  to  find.  People  used  to 
point  me  out  as  the  boy  who  was  trying  to  find  a  man 
named  Rucker ;  and  two  or  three  came  to  me  and  told  me 
of  men  they  had  met  who  might  be  my  man.  I  became 
known  to  many  who  traveled  the  canal  as  being  engaged 
in  some  mysterious  quest.  I  suppose  I  had  an  anxious 
and  rather  strange  expression  as  I  made  my  inquiries. 

It  took  me  two  years  to  make  up  my  mind  to  change 
to  a  passenger  boat,  so  slow  was  I  to  alter  my  way  of 
doing  things.  I  have  always  been  that  way.  My  wife 
read  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New  York  after  the  chil 
dren  were  grown  up  and  she  had  more  time  for  reading, 
and  always  told  the  children  that  she  was  positive  their 
father  must  be  descended  from  that  ancient  Dutchman* 
who  took  thirteen  months  to  look  the  ground  over  before 
he  began  to  put  up  that  well-known  church  in  Rotterdam 
of  which  he  was  the  builder.  After  smoking  over  it  to 
the  tune  of  three  hundred  pounds  of  Virginia  tobacco, 
after  knocking  his  head — to  jar  his  ideas  loose,  maybe — 
and  breaking  his  pipe  against  every  church  in  Holland 
and  parts  of  France  and  Germany;  after  looking  at  the 
site  of  his  church  from  every  point  of  view — from  land, 
from  water,  and  from  the  air  which  he  went  up  into  by 


*Irving's  impersonation  of  Homer  must  have  nodded  when 
he  named  this  safe,  sane  and  staunch  worthy  Hermanns  Van 
Clattercop.— G.  r.  d.  M. 


52  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

climbing  other  towers;  this  good  old  Dutch  contractor 
and  builder  pulled  off  his  coat  and  five  pairs  of  breeches, 
and  laid  the  corner-stone  of  the  church.  I  think  that  this 
delay  was  a  credit  to  him.  Better  be  slow  than  sorry. 
The  church  was,  according  to  my  wife,  a  very  good  one ; 
and  if  the  man  had  jumped  into  the  job  on  the  first  day 
of  his  contract  it  might  have  been  a  very  bad  one.  So, 
when  I  used  to  take  a  good  deal  of  time  to  turn  myself 
before  beginning  any  job,  and  my  wife  would  say  to  one 
of  the  boys :  "Just  wait !  He'll  start  to  build  that  church 
after  a  while!"  I  always  took  it  as  a  compliment.  Fi 
nally  I  always  did  the  thing,  if  after  long  study  it  seemed 
the  right  thing  to  do,  or  if  some  one  else  had  not  done  it 
in  the  meantime ;  just  as  I  finally  told  Captain  Sproule 
that  I  expected  to  work  on  a  passenger  boat  the  next 
summer,  and  was  told  by  him  that  he  had  sold  his  boat 
to  a  company,  and  was  to  be  a  passenger-boat  captain 
himself  the  next  summer;  and  would  sign  me  on  if  I 
wanted  to  stay  with  him — which  I  did. 


I  was  getting  pretty  stocky  now,  and  no  longer  feared 
anything  I  was  likely  to  meet.  I  was  well-known  to  the 
general  run  of  canallers,  and  had  very  little  fighting  to 
do ;  once  in  a  while  a  fellow  would  pick  a  fight  with  me 
because  of  some  spite,  frequently  because  I  refused  to 
drink  with  him,  or  because  he  was  egged  on  to  do  it ;  and 
this  year  I  was  licked  by  three  toughs  in  Batavia.  They 
left  me  senseless  because  I  would  not  say  "enough."  I 
was  getting  a  good  deal  of  reputation  as  a  wrestler.  I 
liked  wrestling  better  than  fighting ;  and  though  a  small 
ish  man  always,  like  my  fellow  lowan  Farmer  Burns,  I 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  53 

have  seldom  found  my  master  at  this  game.  It  is  much 
more  a  matter  of  sleight  than  strength.  A  man  must  be 
cautious,  wary,  cool,  his  muscles  always  ready,  as  quick 
as  a  flash  to  meet  any  strain ;  but  the  main  source  of  my 
success  seemed  to  be  my  ability  to  use  all  the  strength  in 
every  muscle  of  my  body  at  any  given  instant,  so  as  to 
overpower  a  much  stronger  opponent  by  pouring  out  on 
him  so  much  power  in  a  single  burst  of  force  that  he  was 
carried  away  and  crushed.  I  have  thrown  over  my  head 
and  to  a  distance  of  ten  feet  men  seventy-five  pounds 
heavier  than  I  was.  This  is  the  only  thing  I  ever  did  so 
well  that  I  never  met  any  one  who  could  beat  me. 

I  was  of  a  fair  complexion,  with  blue  eyes,  and  my 
upper  lip  and  chin  were  covered  with  a  reddish  fuzz  over 
a  very  ruddy  skin — a  little  like  David's  of  old,  I  guess. 
On  the  passenger  boats  I  met  a  great  many  people,  and 
was  joked  a  good  deal  about  the  girls,  some  of  whom 
seemed  to  take  quite  a  shine  to  me,  just  as  they  do  to  any 
fair-haired,  reasonably  clean-looking  boy;  especially  if 
he  has  a  little  reputation ;  but  though  I  sometimes  found 
myself  looking  at  one  of  them  with  considerable  interest 
there  was  not  enough  time  for  as  slow  a  boy  as  I  to  be 
gin,  let  alone  to  finish  any  courting  operations  on  even 
as  long  a  voyage  as  that  from  Albany  to  Buffalo.  I  was 
really  afraid  of  them  all,  and  they  seemed  to  know  it, 
and  made  a  good  deal  of  fun  of  me. 

We  did  not  carry  our  horses  on  this  boat ;  but  stopped 
at  relay  stations  for  fresh  teams,  and  after  we  had  pulled 
out  from  one  of  these  stations,  we  went  flying  along  at 
from  six  to  eight  miles  an  hour,  with  a  cook  getting  up 
'fine  meals;  and  we  often  had  a  "sing"  as  we  called  it 
when  in  the  evening  the  musical  passengers  got  together 


54  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  tuned  up.  Many  of  them  carried  dulcimers,  accor 
dions,  fiddles,  flutes  and  various  kinds  of  brass  horns, 
and  in  those  days  a  great  many  people  could  sing  the 
good  old  hymns  in  the  Carmina  Sacra,  and  the  glees  and 
part-songs  in  the  old  Jubilee,  with  the  soprano,  tenor, 
bass  and  alto,  and  the  high  tenor  and  counter  which  made 
better  music  than  any  gathering  of  people  are  likely  to 
make  nowadays.  All  they  needed  was  a  leader  with  a 
tuning-fork,  and  off  they  would  start,  making  the  great 
canal  a  pretty  musical  place  on  fine  summer  evenings. 
We  traveled  night  and  day,  and  at  night  the  boat,  lighted 
up  as  well  as  we  could  do  it  then,  with  lanterns  and  lamps 
burning  whale-oil,  and  with  candles  in  the  cabin,  looked 
like  a  traveling  banquet-hall  or  opera-house  or  tavern. 

We  were  always  crowded  with  immigrants  when 
we  went  west ;  and  on  our  eastern  voyages  even,  our  pas 
senger  traffic  was  mostly  related  to  the  West,  its  trade, 
and  its  people.  Many  of  the  men  had  been  out  west 
"hunting  country,"  and  sat  on  the  decks  or  in  the  cabins 
until  late  at  night,  telling  their  fellow-travelers  what  they 
had  found,  exchanging  news,  and  sometimes  altering  their 
plans  to  take  advantage  of  what  somebody  else  had  found. 
Some  had  been  looking  for  places  where  they  could  es 
tablish  stores  or  set  up  in  some  other  business.  Some 
had  gone  to  sell  goods.  Some  were  travelers  for  the 
purpose  of  preying  on  others.  I  saw  a  good  deal  of  the 
world,  that  summer,  some  of  which  I  understood,  but  not 
much.  I  understand  it  far  better  now  as  I  look  back 
upon  it. 

I  noticed  for  the  first  time  now  that  class  of  men  with 
whom  we  became  so  well  acquainted  later,  the  land  spec 
ulators.  These,  and  the  bankers,  many  of  whom  seemed 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  55 

to  have  a  good  deal  of  business  in  the  West,  formed  a 
class  by  themselves,  and  looked  down  from  a  far  height 
on  the  working  people,  the  farmers,  and  the  masses  gen 
erally,  who  voyaged  on  the  same  boats  with  them.  They 
talked  of  development,  and  the  growth  of  the  country, 
and  the  establishments  of  boats  and  the  building  of  rail 
ways;  while  the  rest  of  us  thought  about  homes  and 
places  to  make  our  livings.  The  young  doctors  and  law 
yers,  and  some  old  ones,  too,  who  were  going  out  to  try 
life  on  the  frontiers,  occupied  places  in  between  these 
exalted  folk  and  the  rest  of  us.  There  were  preachers 
among  our  passengers,  but  most  of  them  were  going 
west.  On  almost  every  voyage  there  would  be  a  minister 
or  missionary  who  would  ask  to  have  the  privilege  of 
holding  prayer  on  the  boat ;  and  Captain  Sproule  always 
permitted  it.  The  ministers,  too,  were  among  those  who 
hunted  up  the  singers  in  the  crowds  and  organized  the 
song  services  from  the  Carmina  Sacra. 

4 

I  was  getting  used  to  the  life  and  liked  it,  and  grad 
ually  I  found  my  resolve  to  go  west  getting  less  and  less 
strong;  when  late  in  the  summer  of  1854  something  hap 
pened  which  restored  it  to  me  with  tenfold  strength.  We 
had  reached  Buffalo,  had  discharged  our  passengers  and 
cargo,  and  were  about  starting  on  our  eastward  voyage 
when  I  met  Bill,  the  sailor,  as  he  was  coming  out  of  a 
water-front  saloon.  I  ran  to  him  and  called  him  by  name  ; 
but  at  first  he  did  not  know  me. 

"This  ain't  little  Jake,  is  it?"  he  said.  "By  mighty, 
T  b'lieve  it  is!  W'y,  you  little  runt,  how  you've  growed. 
Come  in  an'  have  a  drink  with  your  ol'  friend  Bill  as 
nussed  you  when  you  was  a  baby !" 


56  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

I  asked  to  be  excused ;  for  I  hadn't  learned  to  drink 
more  than  a  thin  glass  of  rum  and  water,  and  that  only 
when  I  got  chilled.  I  turned  the  subject  by  asking  him 
what  he  was  doing ;  and  at  that  he  slapped  his  thigh  and 
said  he  had  great  news  for  me. 

"I've  found  that  hump-backed  bloke,"  he  said.  "He 
came  down  on  the  boat  with  us  from  Milwaukee.  I 
knowed  him  as  soon  as  I  seen  him,  but  I  couldn't  think 
all  the  v'yage  what  in  time  I  wanted  to  find  him  fer.  You 
jest  put  it  in  my  mind !" 

"Where  is  he?"  I  shouted.  "You  hain't  lost  him,  have 
you  ?" 

Bill  stood  for  quite  a  while  chewing  tobacco,  and 
scratching  his  head. 

"Where  is  he?"  I  yelled. 

"Belay  bellering,"  said  Bill.  "I'm  jest  tryin'  to  think 
whuther  he  went  on  a  boat  east,  or  a  railroad  car,  or  a 
stage-coach,  or  went  to  a  tavern.  He  went  to  a  tavern, 
that's  what  he  done.  A  drayman  I  know  took  his 
dunnage !" 

"Come  on,"  I  cried,  "and  help  me  find  the  drayman !" 

"I'll  have  to  study  on  this,"  said  Bill.  "My  mind 
hain't  as  active  as  usual.  I  need  somethin'  to  brighten 
me  up !" 

"What  do  you  need?"  I  inquired.  "Can't  you  think 
where  he  stays  ?" 

"A  little  rum,"  he  answered,  "is  great  for  the  mem 
ory.  I  b'lieve  most  any  doctor'd  advise  a  jorum  of  rum 
for  a  man  in  my  fix,  to  restore  the  intellects." 

I  took  him  back  into  the  grog-shop  and  bought  him 
rum,  taking  a  very  little  myself,  with  a  great  deal  of 
blackstrap  and  water.  Bill's  symptoms  were  such  as  to 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  57 

drive  me  to  despair.  He  sat  looking  at  me  like  an  old 
owl,  and  finally  took  my  glass  and  sipped  a  little  from  it. 

"Hain't  you  never  goin'  to  grow  up  ?"  he  asked ;  and 
poured  out  a  big  glass  of  the  pure  quill  for  me,  and 
fiercely  ordered  me  to  drink  it.  By  this  time  I  was  des 
perate  ;  so  I  smashed  his  glass  and  mine ;  and  taking  him 
by  the  throat  I  shook  him  and  told  him  that  if  he  did  not 
take  me  to  the  hump-backed  man  or  to  the  drayman,  and 
that  right  off,  I'd  shut  off  his  wind  for  good.  When  he 
clinched  with  me  I  lifted  him  from  the  floor,  turned  him 
upside  down,  and  lowered  him  head-first  into  an  empty 
barrel.  By  this  time  the  saloon-keeper  was  on  the  spot 
making  all  sorts  of  threats  about  having  us  both  arrested, 
and  quite  a  crowd  had  gathered.  I  lifted  Bill  out  of  the 
barrel  and  seated  him  in  a  chair,  and  paid  for  the  glasses ; 
all  the  time  watching  Bill  for  fear  he  might  renew  the 
tussle,  and  take  me  in  flank ;  but  he  sat  as  if  dazed  until  I 
had  quieted  matters  down,  when  he  rose  and  addressed 
the  crowd. 

"My  little  son,"  said  he,  patting  me  on  the  shoulder. 
"Stoutest  man  of  his  inches  in  the  world.  We'll  be  round 
here  's  evenin' — give  a  show.  C'mon,  Jake !" 

"Wot  I  said  about  growin'  up,"  said  he,  as  we  went 
along  the  street,  "is  all  took  back,  Jake !" 

We  had  not  gone  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  when 
we  came  to  a  place  where  there  was  a  stand  for  express 
wagons  and  drays ;  and  Bill  picked  out  from  the  crowd, 
with  a  good  deal  of  difficulty,  I  thought,  a  hard-looking 
citizen  to  whom  he  introduced  me  as  the  stoutest  man  on 
the  Erie  Canal.  The  drayman  seemed  to  know  me.  He 
said  he  had  seen  me  wrestle.  When  I  asked  him  about 
the  hunchback  he  said  he  knew  right  where  he  was ;  but 


58  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

there  was  no  hurry,  and  tried  to  get  up  a  wrestling 
match  between  me  and  a  man  twice  my  size  who  made  a 
specialty  of  hauling  salt,  and  bragged  that  he  could  take 
a  barrel  of  it  by  the  chimes,  and  lift  it  into  his  dray.  I 
told  him  that  I  was  in  a  great  hurry  and  begged  to  be  let 
off;  but  while  I  was  talking  they  had  made  up  a  purse  of 
twenty-one  shillings  to  be  wrestled  for  by  us  two.  I 
finally  persuaded  the  drayman  to  show  me  the  hunch 
back's  tavern,  and  promised  to  come  back  and  wrestle 
after  I  had  found  him ;  to  which  the  stake-holder  agreed, 
but  all  the  rest  refused  to  consent,  and  the  money  was 
given  back  to  the  subscribers.  The  drayman,  Bill  and  I 
went  off  together  to  find  the  tavern — which  we  finally 
did. 

It  was  a  better  tavern  than  we  were  used  to,  and  I 
was  a  little  bashful  when  I  inquired  if  a  man  with  a  black 
beard  was  stopping  there,  and  was  told  that  there  were 
several. 

"What's  his  name  ?"  asked  the  clerk. 

"  'E's  a  hunchback,"  said  Bill— I  had  been  too  diffi 
dent  to  describe  him  so. 

"Mr.  Wisner,  of  Southport,  Wisconsin/'  said  the 
clerk,  "has  a  back  that  ain't  quite  like  the  common  run  of 
backs.  Want  to  see  him  ?" 

He  was  in  a  nice  room,  with  a  fire  burning  and  was 
writing  at  a  desk  which  opened  and  shut,  and  was  carried 
with  him  when  he  traveled.  He  wore  a  broadcloth,  swal 
low-tailed  coat,  a  collar  that  came  out  at  the  sides  of  his 
neck  and  stood  high  under  his  ears;  and  his  neck  was 
covered  with  a  black  satin  stock.  On  the  bed  was  a  tall, 
black  beaver,  stove-pipe  hat.  There  were  a  great  many 
papers  on  the  table  and  the  bed,  and  the  room  looked  as 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  59 

if  it  had  been  used  by  crowds  of  people — the  floor  was 
muddy  about  the  fireplace,  and  there  were  tracks  from 
the  door  to  the  cheap  wooden  chairs  which  seemed  to 
have  been  brought  in  to  accommodate  more  visitors  than 
could  sit  on  the  horsehair  chairs  and  sofa  that  appeared 
to  belong  in  the  room.  Mr.  Wisner  looked  at  us  sharply 
as  we  came  in,  and  shook  hands  first  with  Bill  and  then 
with  me. 

"Glad  to  see  you  again,"  said  he  heartily.  "Glad  to 
see  you  again !  I  want  to  tell  you  some  more  about  Wis 
consin.  I  haven't  told  you  the  half  of  its  advantages." 

I  saw  that  he  thought  we  had  been  there  before,  and 
was  about  to  correct  his  mistake,  when  Bill  told  him  that 
that's  what  we  had  come  for. 

"What  you  said  about  Wisconsin,"  said  Bill,  winking 
at  me,  "has  sort  of  got  us  all  worked  up." 

"Is  it  a  good  country  for  a  boy  to  locate  in  ?"  I  asked, 

"A  paradise  for  a  boy !"  he  said,  in  a  kind  of  bubbly 
way.  "And  for  a  poor  man,  it's  heaven !  Plenty  of  work. 
Good  wages.  If  you  want  a  home,  it's  the  only  God's 
country.  What  kind  of  land  have  you  been  farming  in 
the  past?" 

Bill  said  that  he  had  spent  his  life  plowing  the  seas, 
but  that  all  the  fault  I  had  was  being  a  landsman.  I  ad 
mitted  that  I  had  farmed  some  near  Herkimer. 

"And,"  sneered  Mr.  Wisner  crushingly,  "how  k>ng 
does  it  take  a  man  to  clear  and  grub  out  and  subdue 
enough  land  in  Herkimer  County  to  make  a  living  on? 
Ten  years !  Twenty  years !  Thirty  years !  Why,  in 
Herkimer  County  a  young  man  doesn't  buy  anything 
when  he  takes  up  land  :  he  sells  something!  He  sells  him 
self  to  slavery  for  life  to  the  stumps  and  sprouts  and 


60  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

stones !  But  in  Wisconsin  you  can  locate  on  prairie  land 
ready  for  the  plow;  or  you  can  have  timber  land,  or 
both  kinds,  or  openings  that  are  not  quite  woods  nor  quite 
prairie — there's  every  kind  of  land  there  except  poor 
land!  It's  a  paradise,  and  land's  cheap.  I  can  sell  you 
land  right  back  of  Southport,  with  fine  market  for  what 
ever  you  raise,  on  terms  that  will  pay  themselves — pay 
themselves.  Just  go  aboard  the  first  boat,  and  I'll  give 
you  a  letter  to  my  partner  in  Southport — and  your  for 
tunes  will  be  made  in  ten  years !" 

"The  trouble  is,"  said  Bill,  "that  we'll  be  so  damned 
lonesome  out  where  we  don't  know  any  one.  If  we  could 
locate  along  o'  some  of  our  ol'  mates,  somebody  like  old 
John  Tucker, — it  would  be  a — a  paradise,  eh,  Jake  ?" 

"The  freest-hearted  people  in  the  world,"  said  Mr. 
Wisner.  "They'll  travel  ten  miles  to  take  a  spare-rib  or 
a  piece  of  fresh  beef  to  a  new  neighbor.  Invite  the 
stranger  in  to  stay  all  night  as  he  drives  along  the  road. 
You'll  never  miss  your  old  friends;  and  probably  you'll 
find  old  neighbors  most  anywhere.  Why,  this  country 
has  moved  out  to  Wisconsin.  It  won't  be  long  till  you'll 
have  to  go  there  to  find  'em — ha,  ha,  ha !" 

"If  we  could  find  a  man  out  there  named  Tucker 
?? 

"An  old — sort  of — of  relative  of  mine,"  I  put  in,  see 
ing  that  Bill  was  spoiling  it  all,  "John  Rucker." 

"I  know  him!"  cried  Wisner.  "Kind  of  a  tall  man 
with  a  sandy  beard?  Good  talker?  Kind  of  plausible 
talker?  Used  to  live  down  east  of  Syracuse?  Pretty 
well  fixed?  Went  out  west  three  years  ago?  Calls  him 
self  Doctor  Rucker?" 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  61 

"I  guess  that's  the  man,"  said  I ;  "do  you  know  where 
he  is  now?" 

"Had  a  wife  and  no  children?"  asked  Wisner.  "And 
was  his  wife  a  quiet,  kind  of  sad-looking  woman  that 
never  said  much?" 

"Yes!  Yes!"  said  I.  "If  you  know  where  they  are, 
I'll  go  there  by  the  next  boat." 

"Hum,"  said  Wisner.  "Whether  I  can  tell  you  the 
exact  township  and  section  is  one  thing;  but  I  can  say 
that  they  went  to  Southport  on  the  same  boat  with  me, 
and  at  last  accounts  were  there  or  thereabouts — there  or 
thereabouts." 

"Come  on,  Bill,"  said  I,  "I  want  to  take  passage  on 
the  next  boat !" 

Mr.  WTisner  kept  us  a  long  time,  giving  me  letters  to 
his  partner ;  trying  to  find  out  how  much  money  I  would 
have  when  I  got  to  Southport ;  warning  me  not  to  leave 
that  neighborhood  even  if  I  found  it  hard  to  find  the 
Rucker  family ;  and  assuring  me  that  if  it  weren't  for  the 
fact  that  he  had  several  families  along  the  canal  ready  to 
move  in  a  week  or  two,  he  would  go  back  with  me  and 
place  himself  at  my  service. 

"And  it  won't  be  long,"  said  he,  "until  I  can  be  with 
you.  My  boy,  I  feel  like  a  father  to  the  young  men  lo 
cating  among  us,  and  I  beg  of  you  don't  make  any  per 
manent  arrangements  until  I  get  back.  I  can  save  you 
money,  and  start  you  on  the  way  to  a  life  of  wealth  and 
happiness.  God  bless  you,  and  give  you  a  safe  voyage !" 

"Bill,"  said  I,  as  we  went  down  the  stairs,  "this  is 
the  best  news  I  ever  had.  I'm  going  to  find  my  mother ! 
I  had  given  up  ever  finding  her,  Bill ;  and  I've  been  so 
lonesome — you  don't  know  how  lonesome  I've  been!" 


62  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"I  used  to  have  a  mother,"  said  Bill,  "in  London. 
Next  time  I'm  there  I'll  stay  sober  for  a  day  and  have  a 
look  about  for  her.  You  never  have  but  about  one 
mother,  do  you,  Jake  ?  A  mother  is  a  great  thing — when 
she  ain't  in  drink." 

"I  wish  I  could  have  Mr.  Wisner  with  me  when  I  get 
to  Southport,"  I  said.  "He'd  help  me.  He  is  such  a 
Christian  man!" 

"Wai,"  said  Bill,  "I  ain't  as  sure  about  him  as  I  am 
about  mothers.  He  minds  me  of  a  skipper  I  served  under 
once;  and  he  starved  us,  and  let  the  second  officer  haze 
us  till1  we  deserted  and  lost  our  wages.  He's  about  twice 
too  slick.  I'd  give  him  the  go-by,  Jake." 

"And  now  for  a  boat,"  I  said. 

"Wai,"  said  Bill,  "I'm  sailin'  to-morrow  mornin'  on 
the  schooner  Mahala  Peters,  an'  we're  short-handed.  Go 
aboard  an'  ship  as  an  A.  B." 

I  protested  that  I  wasn't  a  sailor ;  but  Bill  insisted  that 
beyond  being  hazed  by  the  mate  there  was  no  reason  why 
I  shouldn't  work  my  passage. 

"If  there's  a  crime,"  said  he,  "it's  a  feller  like  you 
payin'  his  passage.  Let's  get  a  drink  or  two  an'  go 
aboard." 

I  explained  to  the  captain,  in  order  that  I  might  be 
honest  with  him,  that  I  was  no  sailor,  but  had  worked  on 
canal  boats  for  years,  and  would  do  my  best.  He  swore 
at  his  luck  in  having  to  ship  land-lubbers,  but  took  me 
on;  and  before  we  reached  Southport — now  Kenosha — I 
was  good  enough  so  that  he  wanted  me  to  ship  back  with 
him.  It  was  on  this  trip  that  I  let  the  cook  tattoo  this 
anchor  on  my  forearm,  and  thus  got  the  reputation 
among  the  people  of  the  prairies  of  having  been  a  sailor, 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  63 

and  therefore  a  pretty  rough  character.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  the  sailors  on  the  Lakes  were  no  rougher  than  the 
canallers — and  I  guess  not  so  rough. 

I  was  sorry,  many  a  time,  on  the  voyage,  that  I  had 
not  taken  passage  on  a  steamer,  as  I  saw  boats  going  by 
us  in  clouds  of  smoke  that  left  Buffalo  after  we  did; 
but  we  had  a  good  voyage,  and  after  seeing  Detroit, 
Mackinaw  and  Milwaukee,  we  anchored  in  Southport 
harbor  so  late  that  the  captain  hurried  on  to  Chicago  to 
tie  up  for  the  winter.  I  had  nearly  three  hundred  dollars 
in  a  belt  strapped  around  my  waist,  and  some  in  my 
pocket ;  and  went  ashore  after  bidding  Bill  good-by — I 
never  saw  the  good  fellow  again — and  began  my  search 
for  John  Rucker.  I  did  not  need  to  inquire  at  Mr.  Wis- 
ner's  office,  and  I  now  think  I  probably  saved  money  by 
not  going  there ;  for  I  found  out  from  the  proprietor  of 
the  hotel  that  Rucker,  whom  he  called  Doc  Rucker,  had 
moved  to  Milwaukee  early  in  the  summer. 

"Friend  of  yours?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  I  said  with  a  good  deal  of  emphasis ;  "but  I 
want  to  find  him — bad !" 

"If  you  find  him,"  said  he,  "and  can  git  anything  out 
of  him,  let  me  know  and  I'll  make  it  an  object  to  you. 
An'  if  you  have  any  dealings  with  him,  watch  him.  Nice 
man,  and  all  that,  and  a  good  talker,  but  watch  him." 

"Did  you  ever  see  his  wife?"  I  inquired. 

"They  stopped  here  a  day  or  two  before  they  left," 
said  the  hotel-keeper.  "She  looked  bad.  Needed  a  doc 
tor,  I  guess — a  different  doctor!" 

There  was  a  cold  northeaster  blowing,  and  it  was  spit 
ting  snow  as  I  went  back  to  the  docks  to  see  if  I  could 
get  a  boat  for  Milwaukee.  A  steamer  in  the  offing  was 


64  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

getting  ready  to  go,  and  I  hired  a  man  with  a  skiff  to  put 
me  and  my  carpet-bag  aboard.  We  went  into  Milwaukee 
in  a  howling  blizzard,  and  I  was  glad  to  find  a  warm  bar 
in  the  tavern  nearest  the  dock;  and  a  room  in  which  to 
house  up  while  I  carried  on  my  search.  I  now  had 
found  out  that  the  stage  lines  and  real-estate  offices  were 
the  best  places  to  go  for  traces  of  immigrants;  and  I 
haunted  these  places  for  a  month  before  I  got  a  single 
clue  to  Rucker's  movements.  It  almost  seemed  that  he 
had  been  hiding  in  Milwaukee,  or  had  slipped  through  so 
quickly  as  not  to  have  made  himself  remembered — which 
was  rather  odd,  for  there  was  something  about  his  tall 
stooped  figure,  his  sandy  beard,  his  rather  whining  and 
fluent  talk,  and  his  effort  everywhere  to  get  himself  into 
the  good  graces  of  every  one  he  met  that  made  it  easy 
to  identify  him.  His  name,  too,  was  one  that  seemed  to 
stick  in  people's  minds. 

5 

At  last  I  found  a  man  who  freighted  and  drove  stage 
between  Milwaukee  and  Madison,  who  remembered 
Rucker;  and  had  given  him  passage  to  Madison  some 
time,  as  he  remembered  it,  in  May  or  June — or  it  might 
have  been  July,  but  it  was  certainly  before  the  Fourth  of 

July. 

"You  hauled  him — and  his  wife?"  I  asked. 

"Him  and  his  wife,"  said  the  man,  "and  a  daughter." 

"A  daughter!"  I  said  in  astonishment.     "They  have 

no  daughter." 

"Might  have  been  his  daughter,  and  not  her'n,"  said 

the  stage-driver.     "Wife  was  a  good  deal  younger  than 

him,  an'  the  girl  was  pretty  old  to  be  her'n.    Prob'ly  his. 

Anyhow,  he  said  she  was  his  daughter." 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  65 

"It  wasn't  his  daughter,"  I  cried. 

"Well,  you  needn't  get  het  up  about  it,"  said  he ;  "I 
hain't  to  blame  no  matter  whose  daughter  she  wasn't.  She 
can  travel  with  me  any  time  she  wants  to.  Kind  of  a 
toppy,  fast-goin',  tricky  little  rip,  with  a  sorrel  mane." 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  said  I.  "Did  you  notice  his 
wife — whether  she  seemed  to  be  feeling  well  ?" 

"Looked  bad,"  said  he.  "Never  said  nothing  to  no 
body,  and  especially  not  to  the  daughter.  L^sed  to  go  off 
to  bed  while  the  old  man  and  the  girl  held  spiritualist 
doin's  wherever  we  laid  over.  Went  into  trances,  the 
girl  did,  and  the  old  man  give  lectures  about  the  car  of 
progress  that  always  rolls  on  and  on  and  on,  pervided 
you  consult  the  spirits.  Picked  up  quite  a  little  money 
's  we  went  along,  too." 

I  sat  in  the  barroom  and  thought  about  this  for  a  long 
time.  There  was  something  wrong  about  it.  My  moth 
er's  health  was  failing,  that  was  plain  from  what  I  had 
heard  in  Southport ;  but  it  did  not  seem  to  me,  no  matter 
how  weak  and  broken  she  might  be,  that  she  would  have 
allowed  Rucker  to  pass  off  any  stray  trollop  like  the  one 
described  by  the  stage-driver  as  his  daughter,  or  would 
have  traveled  with  them  for  a  minute.  But,  I  thought, 
what  could  she  do?  And  maybe  she  was  trying  to  keep 
the  affair  within  bounds  as  far  as  possible.  A  good  wo 
man  is  easily  deceived,  too.  Perhaps  she  knew  best,  after 
all;  and  maybe  she  was  going  on  and  on  with  Rucker 
from  one  misery  to  another  in  the  hope  that  I,  her  only 
son,  and  the  only  relative  she  had  on  earth,  might  follow 
and  overtake  her,  and  help  her  out  of  the  terrible  situa 
tion  in  which,  even  I,  as  young  and  immature  as  I  was, 
could  see  that  she  must  find  herself.  I  had  seen  too 


66  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

much  of  the  under  side  of  life  not  to  understand  the 
probable  meaning  of  this  new  and  horrible  thing.  I  re 
membered  how  insulted  my  mother  was  that  time  so  long 
ago  when  Rucker  proposed  that  they  join  the  Free-Lov 
ers  at  Oneida;  and  how  she  had  refused  to  ride  home 
with  him,  at  first,  and  had  walked  back  on  that  trail 
through  the  woods,  leading  me  by  the  hand,  until  she  was 
exhausted,  and  how  Rucker  had  tantalized  her  by  driv 
ing  by  us,  and  sneering  at  us  when  mother  and  I  finally 
climbed  into  the  democrat  wagon,  and  rode  on  with  him 
toward  Tempe.  I  could  partly  see,  after  I  had  thought 
over  it  for  a  day  or  so,  just  what  this  new  torture  might 
mean  to  her. 

I  was  about  to  start  on  foot  for  Madison,  and  looked 
up  my  stage-driver  acquaintance  to  ask  him  about  the 
road. 

"Why  don't  you  go  on  the  railroad?"  he  asked. 
"The  damned  thing  has  put  me  out  of  business,  and  I'm 
no  friend  of  it;  but  if  you're  in  a  hurry  it's  quicker'n 
walkin'." 

I  had  seen  the  railway  station  in  Milwaukee,  and 
looked  at  the  train ;  but  it  had  never  occurred  to  me  that 
I  might  ride  on  it  to  Madison.  Now  we  always  expect  a 
railway  to  run  wherever  we  want  to  go ;  but  then  it  was 
the  exception — and  the  only  railroad  running  out  of  Mil 
waukee  was  from  there  to  Madison.  On  this  I  took  that 
day  my  first  ride  in  a  railway  car,  reaching  Madison  some 
time  after  three.  This  seemed  like  flying  to  me.  I  had 
seen  plenty  of  railway  tracks  and  trains  in  New  York; 
but  I  had  to  come  to  Wisconsin  to  patronize  one. 

I  rode  on,  thinking  little  of  this  new  experience,  as  I 
remember,  so  filled  was  I  with  the  hate  of  John  Rucker 
which  almost  made  me  forget  my  love  for  mv  rather. 


I  BECOME  A  SAILOR  67 

Perhaps  the  one  was  only  the  reverse  side  of  the  other. 
I  had  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do.  I  would  try  hard  not 
to  kill  Rucker,  though  I  tried  him  and  condemned  him  to 
death  in  my  own  mind  several  times  for  every  one  of  the 
eighty  miles  I  rode ;  but  I  knew  that  this  vengeance  was 
not  for  me. 

I  would  take  my  mother  away  from  him,  though,  in 
spite  of  everything;  and  she  and  I  would  move  on  to  a 
new  home,  somewhere,  living  happily  together  for  the 
rest  of  our  lives. 

I  was  happy  when  I  thought  of  this  home,  in  which, 
with  my  new-found,  fresh  strength,  my  confidence  in 
myself,  my  knack  of  turning  my  hand  to  any  sort  of 
common  work,  my  ability  to  defend  her  against  every 
thing  and  everybody — against  all  the  Ruckers  in  the 
world — my  skill  in  so  many  things  that  would  make  her 
old  age  easy  and  happy,  I  would  repay  her  for  all  this 
long  miserable  time, — the  cruelty  of  Rucker  when  she 
took  me  out  of  the  factory  while  he  was  absent,  the 
whippings  she  had  seen  him  give  me,  the  sacrifices  she 
had  made  to  give  me  the  little  schooling  I  had  had,  the 
nights  she  had  sewed  to  make  my  life  a  little  easier,  the 
tears  she  dropped  on  my  bed  when  she  came  and  tucked 
me  in  when  I  was  asleep,  the  pangs  of  motherhood,  and 
the  pains  worse  than  those  of  motherhood  which  she  had 
endured  because  she  was  poor,  and  married  to  a  beast. 

I  would  make  all  this  up  to  her  if  I  could.  I  went  into 
Madison,  much  as  a  man  goes  to  his  wedding ;  only  the 
woman  of  my  dreams  was  my  mother.  But  I  felt  as  I 
did  that  night  when  I  returned  to  Tempe  after  my  first 
summer  on  the  canal — full  of  hope  and  anticipation,  and 
yet  with  a  feeling  in  my  heart  that  again  something  would 
stand  in  my  way. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST 

¥  WENT  to  seek  my  mother  in  my  best  clothes.  I  had 
•*•  bought  some  new  things  in  Milwaukee,  and  was  sure 
that  my  appearance  would  comfort  her  greatly.  Instead 
of  being  ragged,  poverty-stricken,  and  neglected-looking, 
I  was  a  picture  of  a  clean,  well-clothed  working  boy.  I 
had  on  a  good  corduroy  suit,  and  because  the  weather 
was  cold,  I  wore  a  new  Cardigan  jacket.  My  shirt  was 
of  red  flannel,  very  warm  and  thick ;  and  about  my  neck 
I  tied  a  flowered  silk  handkerchief  which  had  been  given 
me  by  a  lady  who  was  very  kind  to  me  once  during  a 
voyage  by  canal,  and  was  called  "my  girl"  by  the  men  on 
the  boat.  I  wore  good  kip  boots  with  high  tops,  with 
shields  of  red  leather  at  the  knees,  each  ornamented  with 
a  gilt  moon  and  star — the  nicest  boots  I  ever  had ;  and 
I  wore  my  pants  tucked  into  my  boot-tops  so  as  to  keep 
them  out  of  the  snow  and  also  to  show  these  glories  in 
leather.  With  clouded  woolen  mittens  on  my  hands, 
given  me  as  a  Christmas  present  by  Mrs.  Fogg,  Captain 
Sproule's  sister,  that  winter  I  worked  for  her  near  Herki- 
mer,  and  a  wool  cap,  trimmed  about  with  a  broad  band  of 
mink  fur,  and  a  long  crocheted  woolen  comforter  about 
my  neck,  I  was  as  well-dressed  a  boy  for  a  winter's  day 
as  a  body  need  look  for.  I  took  a  look  at  myself  in  the 
glass,  and  felt  that  even  at  the  first  glance,  my  mother 

68 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  69 

would  feel  that  in  casting  her  lot  with  me  she  would  be 
choosing  not  only  the  comfort  of  living  with  her  only 
son  but  the  protection  of  one  who  had  proved  himself 
a  man. 

I  glowed  with  pride  as  I  thought  of  our  future 
together,  and  of  all  I  would  do  to  make  her  life  happy 
and  easy.  I  never  was  a  better  boy  in  my  life  than  on 
that  winter  evening  when  I  went  up  the  hilly  street  from 
the  tavern  in  Madison  to  the  place  on  a  high  bluff  over 
looking  a  sheet  of  ice,  stretching  away  almost  as  far  as 
I  could  see,  which  they  told  me  was  Fourth  Lake,  to  the 
house  in  which  I  was  informed  Doctor  Rucker  lived — a 
small  frame  house  among  stocky,  low  burr  oak  trees, 
on  which  the  dead  leaves  still  hung,  giving  forth  a  dreary 
hiss  as  the  bitter  north  wind  blew  through  them. 

I  knocked  at  the  door,  and  was  answered  by  a  red- 
haired  young  woman,  with  a  silly  grin  on  her  face,  the 
smirk  flanked  on  each  side  with  cork-screw  curls  which 
hung  down  over  her  bright  blue  dress ;  which,  as  I  could 
see,  was  pulled  out  at  the  seams  under  her  round  and 
shapely  arms.  She  put  out  a  soft  and  plump  hand  to  me, 
but  I  did  not  take  it.  She  looked  in  my  face,  and  shrank 
back  as  if  frightened. 

"Where's  Rucker?"  I  asked;  but  before  I  had  fin 
ished  the  question  he  came  forward  from  the  other  room, 
clothed  in  dirty  black  broadcloth,  his  patent-medicine- 
pedler's  smile  all  over  his  face,  with  a  soiled  frilled  shirt 
showing  back  of  his  flowered  vest,  which  was  unbuttoned 
except  at  the  bottom,  to  show  the  nasty  finery  beneath. 
He  had  on  a  broad  black  scarf  filling  the  space  between 
the  points  of  his  wide-open  standing  collar,  and  sticking 
out  on  each  side.  I  afterward  recalled  the  impression  of 


^o  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

a  gold  watch-chain,  and  a  broad  ring  on  his  finger.  He 
was  quite  changed  in  outward  appearance  from  the  pov 
erty-stricken  skunk  I  had  once  known ;  but  was  if  any 
thing  more  skunk-like  than  ever :  yet  I  had  to  look  twice 
to  be  sure  of  him. 

"I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  see  you  in  the  flesh,"  said 
he,  coming  forward  with  his  hand  stuck  out — a  hand 
which  I  stared  at  but  never  touched — "exceedingly  glad 
to  see  you,  my  young  brother.  I  have  had  a  spiritual 
vision  of  you.  Honor  us  by  coming  in  by  the  fire !" 

"Where's  my  mother?"  I  asked,  still  standing  in  the 
open  door. 

Rucker  started  at  the  sound  of  my  voice,  which  had 
changed  from  the  boy's  soprano  into  a  deep  bass — much 
deeper  than  it  is  now.  It  was  the  hoarse  croak  of  the 
hobbledehoy. 

The  young  woman  had  shrunk  back  behind  him  now. 

"Your  mother?"  said  he,  in  a  sort  of  panther-like 
purr.  "A  spirit  has  been  for  three  days  seeking  to  speak 
to  a  lost  child  through  my  daughter.  Come  in,  and  let 
us  see.  Let  us  see  if  my  daughter  can  not  pierce  the 
mysteries  of  the  unseen  in  your  case.  Come  in !" 

The  cold  was  blowing  in  at  the  open  door,  and  his 
tone  was  a  little  like  that  of  a  man  who  wants  to  say,  but 
does  not  feel  it  wise  to  do  so,  "Come  in  and  shut  the  door 
after  you !" 

"Your  daughter !"  I  said,  trying  to  think  of  something 
to  say  that  would  show  what  I  thought  of  him,  her,  and 
their  dirty  pretense  ;  "your  daughter !  Hell !" 

"Young  man,"  said  he,  drawing  himself  up  stiffly, 
"what  do  you  mean ?" 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  71 

"I  mean  to  find  my  mother!"  I  cried.  "Where  is 
she?" 

Suddenly  the  thought  of  being  halted  thus  longer, 
and  the  fear  that  my  mother  was  not  there,  drove  me 
crazy.  I  lunged  at  Rucker,  and  with  a  sweep  of  my 
arms,  threw  him  staggering  across  the  room.  The  girl 
screamed,  and  ran  to,  and  behind  him.  I  stormed  through 
to  the  kitchen,  expecting  to  find  my  mother  back  there, 
working  for  this  smooth,  sly,  scroundrelly  pair;  but  the 
place  was  deserted.  There  were  dirty  pots  and  pans 
about ;  and  a  pile  of  unwashed  dishes  stacked  high  in  the 
sink — and  this  struck  me  with  despair.  If  my  mother  had 
been  about,  and  able  to  work,  such  a  thing  would  have 
been  impossible.  So  she  either  was  not  there  or  was  not 
able  to  work — my  instinct  told  me  that ;  and  I  ran  to  the 
foot  of  the  stairs,  and  calling  as  I  had  so  often  done 
when  a  child,  "Ma,  Ma !  Where  are  you,  ma !"  I  waited 
to  hear  her  answer. 

Rucker,  pale  as  a  sheet,  came  up  to  me,  his  quivering 
mouth  trying  to  work  itself  into  a  sneaking  sort  of  smile. 

"Why,  Jacob,  Jakey,"  he  drooled,  "is  this  you?  I 
didn't  know  you.  Sit  down,  my  son,  and  I'll  tell  you  the 
sad,  sad  news !" 

I  heard  him,  but  I  did  not  trust  nor  understand  him, 
and  I  went  through  that  house  from  cellar  to  garret, 
looking  for  her ;  my  heart  freezing  within  me  as  I  saw 
how  impossible  it  would  be  for  her  to  live  so.  There  were 
two  bedrooms,  both  beds  lying  just  as  they  had  been  left 
in  the  morning — and  my  mother  always  opened  her  beds 
up  for  an  airing  when  she  rose,  and  made  them  up  right 
after  breakfast. 

The  room  occupied  by  the  young  woman  was  the 


72  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

room  of  a  slut ;  the  clothes  she  had  taken  off  the  night 
before,  or  even  before  that,  lay  in  a  ring  about  the 
place  where  her  feet  had  been  when  she  dropped  them  in 
the  dust  and  lint  which  rolled  about  in  the  corners  like 
feathers.  Her  corset  was  thrown  down  in  a  corner; 
shoes  and  stockings  littered  the  floor;  her  comb  was 
clogged  with  red  hair  like  a  wire  fence  with  dead  grass 
after  a  freshet ;  dingy,  grimy  underclothing  lay  about.  T 
peered  into  a  closet,  in  which  there  were  more  garments 
on  the  floor  than  on  the  nails.  The  other  bedroom  was 
quite  as  unkempt ;  looking  as  if  the  occupant  must  always 
do  his  chamber  work  at  the  last  moment  before  going  to 
bed.  They  were  as  unclean  outwardly  as  inwardly. 

After  ransacking  the  house  up-chamber,  I  ran  down 
stairs  and  went  into  the  room  from  which  Rucker  had 
come,  where  I  found  the  girl  hiding  behind  a  sofa,  peek 
ing  over  the  back  of  it  at  me,  and  screaming  "Go  away !" 
All  the  walls  in  this  room  were  hung  with  some  thin  black 
cloth,  and  it  looked  like  the  inside  of  a  hearse.  There 
was  a  stand  in  one  corner,  and  a  large  extension  table  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  with  chairs  placed  about  it.  In 
the  corner  across  from  the  stand  was  a  spiritualist  me 
dium's  cabinet ;  and  hanging  on  the  walls  were  a  guitar,  a 
banjo  and  a  fiddle.  A  bell  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
table,  and  there  were  writing  materials,  slates,  and  other 
things  scattered  about,  which  theatrical  people  call 
"properties,"  I  am  told.  I  tore  the  black  draperies  down, 
and  searched  for  a  place  where  my  mother  might  be — 
in  bed  I  expected  to  find  her,  if  at  all ;  but  she  was  not 
there.  I  tried  the  cellar,  but  it  was  nothing  but  a  vege 
table  cave,  dug  in  the  earth,  with  no  walls,  and  dark  as 
a  dungeon  when  the  girl  shut  down  the  trap-door  and 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  73 

stood  on  it :  from  which  I  threw  her  by  putting  my  back 
under  it  and  giving  a  surge.  When  I  came  up  she  was 
staggering  to  her  feet,  and  groaning  as  she  felt  of  her 
head  for  the  results  of  some  suspected  cut  or  bump  from 
her  fall.  Rucker  was  following  me  about  calling  me 
Jacob  and  Jakey,  a  good  deal  as  a  man  will  try  to  smooth 
down  or  pacify  a  vicious  horse  or  mule ;  and  after  I  had 
looked  everywhere,  I  faced  him,  took  him  by  the  throat, 
and  choked  him  until  his  tongue  stuck  out,  and  his  face 
was  purple. 

"My  God,"  said  the  girl,  who  had  grown  suddenly 
quiet,  "you're  killing  him !" 

I  looked  at  his  empurpled  face,  and  my  madness  came 
back  on  me  like  a  rush  of  fire  through  my  veins — and  I 
shut  down  on  his  throat  again  until  I  could  feel  the  cords 
draw  under  my  fingers  like  taut  ropes. 

She  laid  her  hand  rather  gently  on  my  breast,  and 
looked  me  steadily  in  the  eye. 

"Fool !"  she  almost  whispered.  "Your  mother's  dead ! 
Will  it  bring  her  back  to  life  for  you  to  stretch  hemp?" 

I  guess  that  by  that  action  she  saved  my  life ;  but  it 
has  been  only  of  late  years  that  I  have  ceased  to  be  sorry 
that  I  did  not  kill  him.  I  looked  back  into  her  eyes  for 
a  moment — I  remember  yet  that  they  were  bright  blue, 
with  a  lighter  band  about  the  edge  of  the  sight,  instead 
of  the  dark  edging  that  most  of  us  have ;  and  as  I  un 
derstood  her  meaning  I  took  my  hands  from  Rucker's 
throat,  and  threw  him  from  me.  He  lay  on  the  floor  for 
a  minute,  and  as  he  scrambled  to  his  feet  I  sank  down  on 
the  nearest  chair  and  buried  my  face  in  my  hands. 

It  was  all  over,  then;  my  long  lone  quest  for  my 
mother — a  quest  I  had  carried  on  since  I  was  a  little, 


74  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

scared,  downtrodden  child.  I  should  never  have  the 
chance  to  serve  her  in  my  way  as  she  had  served  me  in 
hers — my  way  that  would  never  have  been  anything  but 
a  very  small  and  easy  one  at  the  most ;  while  hers  had 
been  a  way  full  of  torment  and  servitude.  All  my 
strength  was  gone ;  and  the  girl  seemed  to  know  it ;  for 
she  came  over  to  me  and  patted  me  on  the  shoulder  in  a 
motherly  sort  of  way. 

"Poor  boy !"  she  said.  "Poor  boy !  To-morrow,  come 
to  me  and  I'll  show  you  your  mother's  grave.  I'll  take 
you  to  the  doctor  that  attended  her.  I  know  how  you 
feel." 

I  had  passed  a  sleepless  night  before  I  remembered  to 
feel  revolted  at  the  sympathy  of  this  hussy  who  had 
helped  to  bring  my  mother  to  her  death — and  I  did  not  go 
near  her.  But  I  inquired  my  way  from  one  doctor  to 
another — there  were  not  many  in  Madison  then — until  I 
found  one,  named  Mix,  who  had  treated  my  mother  in 
her  last  illness.  She  was  weak  and  run  down,  he  said, 
and  couldn't  stand  a  run  of  lung  fever,  which  had  carried 
her  off. 

"Did  she  mention  me?"  I  asked. 

"At  the  very  last,"  said  Doctor  Mix,  "she  said  once 
or  twice,  'He  had  to  work  too  hard !'  I  don't  know  who 
she  meant.  Not  Rucker,  eh?" 

I  shook  my  head — I  knew  what  she  meant. 

"And,"  said  he,  "if  you  can  see  your  way  clear  to 
arrange  with  old  Rucker  to  pay  my  bill — winter  is  on 
now,  and  I  could  use  the  money." 

I  pulled  out  my  pocketbook  and  paid  the  bill. 

"Thank  you,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "thank  you !" 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  75 

"I'm  glad  to  do  it,"  I  answered — and  turned  away 
my  head. 

"Anything  more  I  can  do  for  you?"  asked  Doctor 
Mix,  much  kinder  than  before. 

"I'd  be  much  obliged,"  I  replied,  "if  you  could  tell 
me  where  I  can  find  some  one  that'll  be  able  to  show  me 
my  mother's  grave." 

"I'll  take  you  there,"  he  said  quickly. 

We  rode  to  the  graveyard  in  his  sleigh,  the  bells 
jingling  too  merrily  by  far,  I  thought ;  and  then  to  a  mar 
ble-cutter  from  whom  I  bought  a  headstone  to  be  put  up 
in  the  spring.  I  worked  out  an  epitaph  which  Doctor 
Mix,  who  seemed  to  see  through  the  case  pretty  well,  put 
into  good  language,  reading  as  follows :  "Here  lies  the 
body  of  Mary  Brouwer  Vandemark,  born  in  Ulster 
County,  New  York,  in  1815;  died  Madison,  Wisconsin, 
October  19,  1854.  Erected  to  her  memory  by  her  son, 
Jacob  T.  Vandemark."  So  I  cut  the  name  of  Rucker 
from  our  family  record  ;  but,  of  course,  he  never  knew. 

Then  the  doctor  took  me  back  to  the  tavern,  trying  to 
persuade  me  on  the  way  to  locate  in  Madison.  He  had 
some  vacant  lots  he  wanted  to  show  me ;  and  said  that  he 
and  a  company  of  friends  had  laid  out  new  towns  at  half 
a  dozen  different  places  in  Wisconsin,  and  even  in  Min 
nesota  and  Iowa.  Before  we  got  back  he  saw,  though  I 
tried  to  be  civil,  that  I  was  not  thinking  about  what  he 
was  saying,  and  so  he  let  me  think  in  peace ;  but  he  shook 
hands  with  me  kindly  at  parting,  and  wished  I  could  have 
got  there  in  September. 

"Things  might  have  been  different,"  said  he.  "You're 
a  darned  good  boy ;  and  if  you'll  stay  here  till  spring  Til 
get  you  a  job." 


76  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

2 

There  was  no  fire  in  my  room,  and  it  was  cold ;  so 
there  was  no  place  to  sit  except  in  the  barroom,  which 
I  found  deserted  but  for  one  man,  when  I  went  back 
and  sat  down  to  think  over  my  future.  Should  I  go 
back  to  the  canal?  I  hated  to  do  this,  though  all  my 
acquaintances  were  there,  and  the  work  was  of  the  sort 
I  had  learned  to  do  best ;  besides,  here  I  was  in  the  West, 
and  all  the  opportunities  of  the  West  were  before  me, 
though  it  looked  cold  and  dreary  just  now,  and  no  great 
chances  seemed  lying  about  for  a  boy  like  me.  I  was 
perplexed.  I  had  lost  my  desire  for  revenge  on  Rucker ; 
and  just  then  I  felt  no  ambition,  and  saw  no  light.  I  was 
ready,  I  suppose,  to  begin  a  life  of  drifting ;  this  time  with 
no  aim,  not  even  a  remote  one — for  my  one  object  in  life 
had  vanished.  But  something  in  the  way  of  guidance 
always  has  come  to  me  at  such  times ;  and  it  came  now. 
The  one  man  who  was  in  the  bar  when  I  came  in  got  up, 
and  moving  over  by  me,  sat  down  in  a  chair  by  my  side. 

"Cold  day,"  said  he. 

I  agreed,  and  looked  him  over  carefully.  He  was  a 
tall  man  who  wore  a  long  black  Prince  Albert  coat  which 
came  down  below  his  knees,  a  broad  felt  hat,  and  no  over 
coat.  He  looked  cold,  and  rather  shabby ;  but  he  talked 
with  a  good  deal  of  style,  and  used  many  big  words. 

"Stranger  here?"  he  asked. 

I  admitted  that  I  was. 

"May  I  offer,"  said  he,  "the  hospitalities  of  the  city 
in  the  form  of  a  hot  whisky  toddy?" 

I  thanked  him  and  asked  to  be  excused. 

"Your  name,"  he  ventured,  after  clearing  his  throat, 
"is  Vandemark." 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST 

Then  I  looked  at  him  still  more  sharply.  How  did  he 
know  my  name? 

"I  have  been  looking  for  you,"  said  he,  "for  some 
months — some  months;  and  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
observe  the  fact  when  you  made  a  call  last  evening  on  our 
fellow-citizen,  Doctor  Rucker.  I  was — ahem — consulted 
professionally  by  the  late  lamented  Mrs.  Rucker— I  am  a 
lawyer,  sir — before  her  death,  for  the  purpose  of  securing 
my  services  in  looking  after  the  interests  of  her  son,  Mr. 
Jacob  H.  Vandemark." 

"Jacob  T.  Vandemark,"  said  I. 

"Why,  -fea»  me,"  said  he,  looking  again  at  his  book, 
"it  is  a  T.'  Lawyer's  writing,  Jacob,  lawyer's  writing— 
notoriously  bad,  you  know." 

I  sat  thinking  about  the  expression,  "the  interests  of 
Jacob  T.  Vandemark,"  for  a  long  time ;  but  the  truth  did 
not  dawn  ^n  me,  my  mind  working  slowly  as  usual. 

"What  interests?"  I  asked  finally. 

"The  interest,"  said  he,  "of  her  only  child  in  the  estate 
of  Mrs.  Rucker." 

Then  there  recurred  to  my  mind  the  words  in  my 
mother's  last  letter ;  that  the  money  had  been  paid  on  the 
settlement  of  my  father's  estate,  and  that  she  and  Rucker 
were  coming  out  West  to  make  a  new  start  in  life.  I  had 
never  given  it  a  moment's  thought  before,  and  should 
have  gone  away  without  asking  anybody  a  single  question 
about  it,  if  this  scaly  pettifogger,  as  I  now  know  him  to 
have  been,  had  not  sidled  up  to  me. 

"The  estate,"  said  my  new  friend,  "is  small,  Jacob; 
but  right  is  right,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  this  man 
Rucker  should  not  be  made  to  disgorge  every  cent  that's 
coming  to  you — every  cent!  I  know  Doctor  Rucker 


78  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

slightly,  and  I  hope  I  shall  not  shock  you  if  I  say  that  in 
my  opinion  he  would  steal  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  wipe 
his  condemned  lousy  red  whiskers  and  his  freckled  claws 
with  the  table-cloth!  That's  the  kind  of  pilgrim  and 
stranger  Rucker  is.  He  will  cheat  you  out  of  your  eye 
teeth,  sir,  unless  you  are  protected  by  the  best  legal  talent 
to  be  had — the  best  to  be  had — the  talent  and  the  advice 
of  the  man  to  whom  your  late  lamented  mother  went  for 
counsel." 

"Yes,"  said  I  after  a  while,  "I  think  he  will." 

"That  is  why  your  mother,"  he  went  on,  "advised  with 
me ;  for  even  if  I  have  to  say  it,  I'm  a  living  whirlwind  in 
court.  Suppose  we  have  a  drink !" 

I  sat  with  my  drink  before  me,  slowly  sipping  it,  and 
trying  to  see  through  this  man  and  the  new  question  he 
had  brought  up.  Certainly,  I  was  entitled  to  my  mother's 
property — all  of  it  by  rights,  whatever  the  law  might  be — 
for  it  came  through  my  father.  Surely  this  lawyer  must 
be  a  good  man,  or  my  mother  wouldn't  have  consulted 
him.  But  when  I  mentioned  to  my  new  friend,  whose 
name  was  Jackway,  my  claim  to  the  whole  estate  he  as 
sured  me  that  Rucker  was  the  legal  owner  of  his  share  in 
it — I  forgot  how  much. 

"And,"  said  he,  "I  make  no  doubt  the  old  scoundrel 
has  reduced  the  whole  estate  to  possession,  and  is  this 
moment,"  lowering  his  voice  secretively,  "acting  as  execu 
tor  de  son  tort — executor  de  son  tort,  sir!  I  wouldn't 
put  it  past  him!" 

I  wrote  this,  with  some  other  legal  expressions  in  my 
note-book. 

"How  can  I  get  this  money  away  from  him?"  said  I, 
coming  to  the  point. 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  79 

"Money!"  said  he.  "How  do  we  know  it  is  money? 
It  may  be  chattels,  goods,  wares  or  merchandise.  It  may 
be  realty.  It  may  be  choses  in  action.  We  must  require 
of  him  a  complete  discovery.  We  may  have  to  go  back 
to  the  original  probate  proceedings  through  which  your 
mother  became  seized  of  this  property  to  obtain  the  neces 
sary  information.  How  old  are  you?" 

I  told  him  that  I  was  sixteen  the  twenty-seventh  of 
the  last  July. 

"A  minor,"  said  he;  "in  law  an  infant.  A  guardian 
ad  lit  em  will  have  to  be  appointed  to  protect  your  inter 
ests,  and  to  bring  suit  for  you.  I  shall  be  glad  to  serve 
you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  justice;  and  to  confound  those 
with  whom  robbery  of  the  orphan  is  an  occupation,  sir, 
a  daily  occupation.  Come  up  to  my  office  with  me,  and 
we  will  begin  proceedings  to  make  Rucker  sweat !" 

3 

But  this  was  too  swift  for  a  Vandemark.  In  spite  of 
his  urging,  I  insisted  that  I  should  have  to  think  it  over. 
He  grew  almost  angry  at  me  at  last,  I  thought ;  but  he 
went  away  finally,  after  I  had  taken  the  hint  he  gave  and 
bought  him  another  drink.  The  next  morning  he  was 
back  again,  urging  me  to  proceed  immediately,  "so  that 
the  property  might  not  be  further  sequestrated  and 
wasted."  He  did  not  know  how  slow  I  was  to  think  and 
act ;  and  suspected  that  I  was  going  to  some  other  lawyer, 
I  now  believe ;  for  I  noticed  him  shadowing  me,  as  the 
detectives  say,  every  time  I  walked  out.  On  the  third  day, 
while  I  was  still  studying  the  matter,  and  making  no  prog 
ress,  Rucker  himself  came  into  the  tavern,  with  his  neck 
bandaged  and  his  head  on  one  side,  and  in  his  best 
clothes ;  and  sitting  on  the  edge  of  his  chair  between  me 


80  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  the  door,  as  if  ready  to  take  wing  at  any  hostile  move 
ment  on  my  part,  he  broached  the  subject  of  my  share  ir. 
my  mother's  estate. 

"I  want  to  deal  with  you,"  said  he  in  that  dangerous 
whine  of  his,  "as  with  my  own  son,  Jacob,  my  own  son/' 

There  was  nothing  to  say  to  this,  and  I  said  nothing. 
I  only  looked  at  him.  He  was  studying  me  closely,  but 
had  never  taken  pains  to  learn  my  peculiarities  when  I 
lived  with  him,  and  had  to  study  a  total  stranger,  and  a 
person  who  was  too  old  to  be  treated  as  a  child,  but  who 
at  the  same  time  must  be  very  green  in  money  matters.  I 
was  a  puzzle  to  him,  and  my  lack  of  words  made  me  still 
more  of  a  problem. 

"You  know,  of  course,"  he  finally  volunteered,  "that 
the  estate  when  it  was  finally  wound  up  had  mostly  been 
eaten  up  by  court  expenses  and  lawyers'  fees — the  rob 
bers  !" 

I  could  see  he  was  in  earnest  in  this  last  remark ;  but 
of  course  lawyers'  fees  and  court  expenses  were  all  a 
mystery  to  me.  I  did  not  even  know  that  lawyers  and 
courts  had  anything  to  do  with  estates.  I  did  not  know 
what  an  estate  was — so  I  continued  to  keep  still. 

"There  was  hardly  anything  left,"  said  he. 

I  was  astonished  at  this;  and  I  did  not  believe  it. 
After  thinking  it  over  for  a  few  minutes,  earnestly,  and 
without  any  thought  of  saying  anything  to  catch  him  up, 
I  said:  "You  traveled  in  good  style  coming  west  on  the 
canal.  You  took  a  steamer  up  the  Lakes.  You  have  been 
dressing  fine  ever  since  the  money  came  in;  and  you're 
keeping  a  woman." 

He  made  no  reply,  except  to  say  that  I  did  not  under 
stand,  but  would  when  he  showed  me  where  every  cent 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  81 

of  the  estate  money  had  gone  which  he  had  spent,  and  just 
how  much  was  left.  As  for  his  daughter — he  supposed 
I  knew — but  he  never  finished  this  speech.  I  rose  to  my 
feet ;  and  he  left  hurriedly,  saying  that  he  would  show  me 
a  statement  in  the  morning.  "I  expect  to  pay  your  board 
here/'  said  he,  "for  a  few  days,  you  know — until  you 
decide  to  move  on — or  move  back." 

For  a  week  or  so  I  refused  to  talk  with  Rucker  or 
Jackway ;  but  sat  around  and  tried  to  make  up  my  mind 
ivhat  to  do.  To  hire  Jackway  would  take  all  rny  savings ; 
and  the  schedules  which  Rucker  brought  me  on  legal-cap 
paper  I  refused  even  to  touch  with  my  hands.  I  am  sure, 
now,  that  Rucker  had  sent  Jackway  to  me  in  the  first 
place,  never  suspecting  that  the  matter  of  the  estate  had 
been  so  far  from  my  mind ;  and  thereby,  by  too  much 
craft,  he  lost  the  opportunity  of  stealing  it  all.  Jackway 
f.cept  telling  me  of  Rucker's  rascalities,  so  as  to  get  into 
my  good  graces  and  confidence,  in  which  he  succeeded 
better  than  he  knew ;  and  urging  me  to  pay  him  a  few 
dollars — just  a  few  dollars — "to  begin  proceedings  to 
stay  waste  and  sequestration" ;  but  I  did  not  give  him 
anything-  because  it%  seemed  a  first  step  into  something  I 
had  not  understood. 

4 

I  began  calling  on  land  agents,  thinking  I  might  use 
what  little  money  I  had  left  to  make  a  first  payment  on 
a  farm ;  but  the  land  around  Madison  was  too  high  in 
price  for  me.  Two  or  three  of  these  real  estate  agents 
were  also  lawyers;  and  I  caught  Rucker  and  Jackway 
together,  looking  worried  and  anxious,  when  I  came 
from  the  office  of  one  of  them  who  very  kindly 
informed  me  that,  if  he  were  in  my  place,  he  would  go 


82  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

across  the  Mississippi  and  settle  in  Iowa.  He  had  been  as 
far  west  as  Fort  Dodge,  and  described  to  me  the  great 
prairies,  unbroken  by  the  plow,  the  railroads  which  were 
just  ready  to  cross  the  Mississippi,  the  rich  soil,  the 
chance  there  was  to  get  a  home,  and  to  become  my  own 
master.  I  began  to  feel  an  interest  in  Iowa. 

I  think  these  days  must  have  been  anxious  ones  for 
Rucker,  greedy  as  he  was  for  my  little  fortune,  ignorant 
as  he  was  of  the  depth  of  the  ignorance  of  the  silent 
stupid  boy  with  whom  he  was  dealing — and  a  boy,  too, 
who  had  made  that  one  remark  about  his  way  of  living 
and  traveling  that  seemed  to  show  a  knowledge  of  just 
what  he  was  doing,  and  had  done.  I  could  see  after  that, 
that  he  thought  me  much  sharper  than  I  was.  Lawyer 
Jackway  haunted  the  hotel,  and  was  spending  more 
money — Rucker's  money,  I  know.  He  had  bought  a  new 
overcoat,  and  was  drinking  a  good  deal  more  than  was 
good  for  him ;  but  he  wormed  out  of  me  something  about 
my  desire  for  a  farm,  and  after  having  had  a  chance  to 
see  Rucker  he  began  talking  of  a  compromise. 

"The  old  swindler,"  said  he,  "has  all  the  evidence  in 
his  own  hands;  and  he  and  that  red-headed  spiritual 
partner  of  his  will  swear  to  anything.  As  your  legal 
adviser,"  said  he,  "and  the  legal  adviser  of  your  sainted 
mother,  I'd  advise  you  to  take  anything  he  is  willing  to 
give — within  bounds,  of  course,  within  bounds/' 

So  the  next  time  Rucker  sidled  into  the  tavern,  and 
began  beslavering  me  about  the  way  the  money  left  by 
my  mother  was  being  eaten  up  by  expenses  and  debts,  I 
blurted  out :  "Well,  what  will  you  give  me  to  clear  out 
and  let  you  and  your  red-headed  woodpecker  alone  ?" 

"Now,"  said  he,  "you  are  talking  sensibly — sensibly. 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  83 

There  is  a  little  farm  out  near  Blue  Mounds  that  I  could, 
by  a  hard  struggle,  let  you  have ;  but  it  would  be  more 
than  your  share — more  than  your  share." 

This  was  forty  acres,  and  would  have  a  mortgage  on 
it.  I  waited  a  day  or  so,  and  told  him  I  wouldn't  take  it. 
What  I  was  afraid  of  was  the  mortgage;  but  I  didn't 
give  my  reasons.  Then  he  came  back  with  a  vacant  lot 
in  Madison,  and  then  three  vacant  lots,  which  I  went  and 
looked  at,  and  found  in  a  swamp.  Then  I  told  him  I 
wanted  money  or  farm  land ;  and  he  offered  me  a  lead 
mine  near  Mineral  Point.  All  the  time  he  was  getting 
more  and  more  worried  and  excited ;  he  used  to  tremble 
when  he  talked  to  me ;  and  as  the  winter  wore  away,  and 
the  season  drew  nearer  when  he  wanted  to  go  on  his 
travels,  or  deal  with  the  properties  in  which  I  had  found 
out  by  this  time  he  was  speculating  with  my  mother's 
money,  just  as  everybody  was  speculating  then,  in  mines, 
town  sites,  farm  lands,  railway  stocks  and  such  things, 
he  was  on  tenter-hooks,  I  could  see  that,  to  get  rid  of  me, 
whom  he  thought  he  had  given  the  slip  forever.  Finally 
he  came  to  me  one  morning,  just  as  a  warm  February 
wind  had  begun  to  thaw  the  snow,  and  said,  beaming  as 
if  he  had  found  a  gold  mine  for  me :  "Jacob,  I've  got  just 
what  you  want — a  splendid  farm  in  Iowa." 

And  he  laid  on  the  table  the  deed  to  my  farm  in 
Vandemark  Township,  a  section  of  land  in  one  solid  block 
a  mile  square.  "Of  course,"  said  he,  "I  can't  let  you  have 
all  of  it — but  let  us  say  eighty  acres,  or  even  I  might 
clean  up  a  quarter-section,  here  along  the  east  side," — 
and  he  pointed  to  a  plat  of  it  pinned  fast  to  the  deed. 

"The  whole  piece,"  said  I,  "is  worth  eight  hundred 
dollars,  and  not  a  cent  more — if  it's  all  good  land.  That 
ain't  enough." 


84  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"All  good  land!"  said  he — and  I  could  see  he  was 
surprised  at  the  fact  that  I  knew  Iowa  land  was  selling 
at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  an  acre.  "Why,  there  ain't  any 
thing  but  good  land  there.  You  can  put  a  plow  in  one 
corner  of  that  section,  and  plow  every  foot  of  it  without 
taking  the  share  out  of  the  ground." 

"All  or  nothing/'  said  I,  "and  more." 

Next  day  he  came  back  and  said  he  would  let  me  have 
the  whole  section ;  but  that  it  would  break  him.  He 
wanted  to  be  fair  with  me — more  than  fair.  People  had 
set  me  against  him,  he  said,  looking  at  Jackway  who  was 
drinking  at  the  bar ;  but  nobody  could  say  that  he  was  a 
man  who  would  not  deal  fairly  with  an  ignorant  boy. 

"I've  got  to  have  a  team,  a  wagon,  a  cover  for  the 
wagon,  and  provisions  for  the  trip,"  I  said,  "and  a  few 
hundred  dollars  to  live  on  for  a  while  after  I  get  to  Iowa." 

At  this  he  threw  his  hands  up,  and  left  me,  saying  that 
if  I  wanted  to  ruin  him  I  would  have  to  do  it  through 
the  courts.  He  had  gone  as  far  as  he  would  go,  and  I 
would  never  have  another  offer  as  generous  as  he  had 
made  me.  The  next  day  I  met  on  the  street  the  red 
headed  girl,  who  went  by  the  name  of  Alice  Rucker,  and 
was  notorious  as  a  medium.  She  stopped  me,  and  asked 
why  I  hadn't  been  to  see  her — carrying  the  conversation 
off  casually,  as  if  we  had  been  ordinary  acquaintances. 
All  I  could  say— for  I  was  a  little  embarrassed,  was  "I 
do'  know" — which  was  what  I  had  told  Rucker  and  Jack- 
way,  in  answer  to  a  thousand  questions,  until  they  were 
crazy  to  know  how  to  come  at  me. 

"Let  me  tell  you  something,"  said  she.  "If  you  want 
that  Towa  farm,  pa " 

"Who?"  said  I. 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  85 

"Rucker,"  said  she,  brazening  it  out  with  me.  "He'll 
give  you  the  land,  and  your  outfit.  Don't  let  them  fool 
you  out  of  the  team  and  wagon." 

"Thank  you  for  telling  me,"  said  I ;  "but  I  guess  I'll 
have  to  have  more." 

"If  you  go  into  court  he'll  beat  you,"  said  she,  "and 
I'm  telling  you  that  as  a  friend,  even  if  you  don't  believe 
me." 

"I'm  much  obliged,"  I  said ;  and  I  believed  then,  and 
believe  now,  that  she  was  sincere. 

"And  when  you  start,"  said  she,  "if  you  want  some 
one  to  cook  and  take  care  of  you,  let  me  know.  I  like 
traveling." 

I  turned  red  at  this ;  and  halted  and  mumbled,  until 
she  tripped  away,  laughing,  but  looking  back  at  me ;  but 
I  remembered  what  she  had  said,  and  within  a  week  I 
had  consented  that  Jackway  be  appointed  guardian  ad 
lit  em  for  me  in  the  court  proceedings ;  and  in  a  short  time 
I  received  a  good  team  of  mares,  a  bay  named  Fanny  and 
a  sorrel  named  Flora,  good,  twelve  hundred  pound 
chunks,  but  thin  in  flesh — I  would  not  take  geldings — a 
wagon,  nearly  new,  a  set  of  wagon  bows,  enough  heavy 
drilling  to  make  a  cover,  some  bedding,  a  stove,  an  old 
double-barreled  shotgun,  two  pounds  of  powder  and  a  lot 
of  shot,  harness  for  the  team,  horse-feed,  and  as  complete 
an  outfit  as  I  could  think  of,  even  to  the  box  of  axle- 
grease  swinging  under  the  wagon-box.  Rucker  groaned 
at  every  addition :  and  finally  balked  when  I  asked  him 
for  a  hundred  dollars  in  cash.  The  court  entered  up  the 
proper  decree,  I  put  my  deeds  in  my  pocket,  and  after 
making  a  feed-box  for  the  horses  to  hang  on  the  back  of 


86  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

the  wagon-box,  I  pulled  out  for  Iowa  three  weeks  too 
soon — for  the  roads  were  not  yet  settled. 

5 

The  night  before  I  started,  I  sat  in  the  warm  bar 
room,  half  pleased  and  half  frightened  at  the  new  world 
into  which  I  was  about  to  enter,  thinking  of  my  new 
wagon  and  the  complete  equipage  of  emigration  now 
shown  to  be  mine  by  the  bills  of  sale  and  deeds  in  my 
pocket,  and  occasionally  putting  my  fingers  to  my  nose  to 
catch  the  good  smell  of  the  horse  which  soap  and  water 
had  not  quite  removed.  This  scent  I  had  acquired  by 
currying  and  combing  my  mares  for  hours,  clipping  their 
manes  and  fetlocks,  and  handling  them  all  over  to  see  if 
they  were  free  from  blemishes.  The  lawyer,  Jackway, 
my  guardian  ad  lit  em,  came  into  the  tavern  in  a  high  and 
mighty  and  popular  way,  saying  "How  de  do,  ward?"  in 
a  way  I  didn't  like,  went  to  the  bar  and  throwing  down  a 
big  piece  of  money  began  drinking  one  glass  after 
another. 

As  he  drank  he  grew  boastful.  •  He  bragged  to 
the  men  about  him  of  his  ability.  Nobody  ever  hired 
Jackway  to  care  for  his  interests,  said  he,  without  having 
his  interests  taken  care  of. 

"You  can  go  out/'  said  he  to  a  peaceful-looking-  man 
who  stood  watching  him,  "into  the  street  there,  and  stab 
the  first  man  you  meet,  and  Jackway'll  get  you  clear. 
I'm  a  living  whirlwind!  And,"  looking  at  me  as  I  sat 
in  the  chair  by  the  wall,  "you  can  steal  a  woman's  estate 
and  I'll  get  it  away  from  her  heirs  for  you." 

I  wondered  if  he  meant  me.  I  hardly  believed  that  he 
could ;  for  all  the  while  he  had  made  a  great  to-do  about 
protecting  my  interests ;  and  I  now  remembered  that  he 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  87 

had  taken  an  oath  to  do  so.  But  he  kept  sneering  at  me 
all  the  evening,  and  just  as  I  was  leaving  to  go  to  bed,  he 
called  the  crowd  up  to  drink  with  him. 

"This  is  on  the  estate,"  he  hiccoughed — for  he  was 
very  drunk  by  this  time — "and  I'll  give  you  a  toast." 

They  all  lined  up,  slapping  him  on  the  back ;  and  as  I 
stood  in  the  door,  they  all  lifted  their  glasses,  and  Jackway 
gave  them  what  he  called  his  "toast,"  which  ran  as 
follows : 

"Sold  again 

And  got  the  tin, 

And  sucked  another  Dutchman  in  !M 

He  paid  out  of  a  fat  pocketbook,  staggering,  and 
pointing  at  me  and  looking  like  a  tipsy  imp  of  some  sort ; 
and  finally  he  started  over  toward  me,  saying,  "Hey, 
Dutchman !  Wait  a  minute  an'  I'll  tell  you  how  you  got 
sucked  in !" 

I  grew  suddenly  very  angry;  and  slammed  the  door 
in  his  face  to  prevent  myself  from  doing  him  harm. 
I  had  not  yet  seen  why  I  ought  to  do  him  harm ;  and 
along  the  road  to  Iowa,  I  was  all  the  time  wondering  why 
I  got  madder  and  madder  at  Jackway;  and  that  rhyme 
kept  running  through  my  mind,  oftener  and  oftener,  as 
I  drew  nearer  and  nearer  my  journey's  end : 

"Sold  again 

And  got  the  tin, 

And  sucked  another  Dutchman  in !" 

It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  March.  There  were  snow 
drifts  in  places  along  the  road,  and  when  I  reached  a 
place  about  where  Mt.  Horeb  now  is,  I  had  to  stop  and  lie 


88  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

up  for  three  days  for  a  snow-storm.  I  was  ahead  of  the 
stream  of  immigrants  that  poured  over  that  road  in  the 
spring  of  1855  in  a  steady  tide. 

As  I  made  my  start  from  Madison  I  saw  Rucker  and 
Alice  standing  at  the  door  of  the  tavern  seemingly  mak 
ing  sure  that  I  was  really  getting  out  of  town.  He 
dodged  back  into  the  house  when  I  glanced  at  them ;  but 
she  walked  out  into  the  street  and  stopped  me,  as  bold  as 
brass. 

"I'm  waiting,"  said  she.  "Where  shall  I  ride?"  And 
she  put  one  foot  on  the  hub  and  stepped  up  with  the  other 
into  the  wagon  box. 

"I'm  just  pulling  out  for  Iowa,"  I  said,  my  face  as 
red  as  her  hair,  I  suppose. 

''We're  just  pulling  out,"  said  she. 

"I've  got  to  move  on,"  said  I ;  "be  careful  or  you'll  get 
your  dress  muddy  on  the  wheel." 

She  couldn't  have  expected  me  to  take  her,  of  course ; 
but  I  thought  she  looked  kind  of  hurt.  There  seemed  to 
be  something  like  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  put  her  arms 
around  my  neck. 

"Kiss  your  little  step-sister  good-by,"  she  said.  "She's 
been  a  better  friend  of  yours  than  you'll  ever  know — you 
big,  nice,  blundering  greenhorn !" 

She  laid  her  lips  on  mine.  It  was  the  first  kiss  I  had 
ever  had  from  any  one  since  I  was  a  little  boy ;  and  as  I 
half  struggled  against  but  finally  returned  it,  it  thrilled 
me  powerfully.  Afterward  I  was  disgusted  with  my 
self  for  kissing  this  castaway ;  but  as  I  drove  on,  leaving 
her  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road  looking  after  me, 
it  almost  seemed  as  if  I  were  leaving  a  friend.  Perhaps 
she  was,  in  her  way,  the  nearest  thing  to  a  friend  I  had 


THE  END  OF  A  LONG  QUEST  89 

then  in  the  world — strange  as  it  seems.  As  for  Rucker, 
he  was  rejoicing,  of  course,  at  having  trimmed  neatly  a 
dumb-head  of  a  Dutch  boy — a  wrong  to  my  poor  mother, 
the  very  thought  of  which  even  after  all  these  years, 
makes  my  blood  boil. 


CHAPTER  VI 

I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK 

1WAS  off  with  the  spring  rush  of  1855  for  the  new 
lands  of  the  West !  I  kept  thinking  as  I  drove  along 
of  Lawyer  Jackway's  sarcastic  toast,  "Sold  again,  and 
got  the  tin,  and  sucked  another  Dutchman  in!"  But 
after  all  I  couldn't  keep  myself  from  feeling  pretty  proud, 
as  I  watched  the  play  of  my  horses'  ears  as  they  seemed 
to  take  in  each  new  westward  view  as  we  went  over  the 
tops  of  the  low  hills,  and  as  I  listened  to  the  "chuck, 
chuck"  of  the  wagon  wheels  on  their  well-greased 
skeins.  Rucker  and  Jackway  might  have  given  me  a 
check  on  the  tow-path ;  but  yet  I  felt  hopeful  that  I  was 
to  make  a  real  success  of  my  voyage  of  life  to  a  home  and 
a  place  where  I  could  be  somebody.  There  was  pleasure 
in  looking  back  at  my  riches  in  the  clean,  hard-stuffed 
straw-tick,  the  stove,  the  traveling  home  which  belonged 
to  me. 

It  seems  a  little  queer  to  me  now  to  think  of  it  as  I 
look  out  of  my  bay-window  at  my  great  fields  of  corn, 
my  pastures  dotted  with  stock,  my  feedyard  full  of  fat 
steers ;  or  as  I  sit  in  the  directors'  room  of  the  bank  and 
take  my  part  as  a  member  of  the  board.  But  I  am  really 
not  as  rich  now  as  I  was  then. 

I  was  going  to  a  country  which  seemed  to  be  drawing 
everybody  else,  and  must  therefore  be  a  good  country — 

90 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  91 

and  I  had  a  farm.  I  had  a  great  farm.  It  was  a  mile 
square.  It  was  almost  like  the  estate  that  General  Can- 
tine  had  near  the  canal  at  Ithaca  I  thought.  To  my  boy's 
mind  it  looked  too  big  for  me ;  and  sometimes  I  wondered 
if  I  should  not  be  able  to  rent  it  out  to  tenants  and  grow 
rich  on  my  income,  like  the  Van  Renssalaers  of  the 
Manor  before  the  Anti-Rent  difficulties. 

All  the  while  I  was  passing  outfits  which  were  waiting 
by  the  roadside,  or  making  bad  weather  of  it  for  some 
reason  or  other;  or  I  was  passed  by  those  who  had  less 
regard  for  their  horse  flesh  than  I,  or  did  not  realize 
that  the  horses  had  to  go  afoot ;  or  those  that  drew  lighter 
loads.  There  were  some  carriages  which  went  flourishing 
along  with  shining  covers ;  these  were  the  aristocrats ; 
there  were  other  slow-going  rigs  drawn  by  oxen.  Usually 
there  would  be  two  or  more  vehicles  in  a  train.  They 
camped  by  the  roadside  cooking  their  meals  ;  they  stopped 
at  wayside  taverns.  They  gave  me  all  sorts  of  how-d'ye- 
does  as  I  passed.  Girls  waved  their  hands  at  me  from 
the  hind-ends  of  rigs  and  said  bold  things — to  a  boy  they 
would  not  see  again :  but  which  left  him  blushing  and 
thinking  up  retorts  for  the  next  occasion — retorts  that 
never  seemed  to  fit  when  the  time  came;  and  talkative 
women  threw  remarks  at  me  about  the  roads  and  the 
weather. 

Men  tried  half  a  dozen  times  a  day  to  trade  me  out  of 
my  bay  mare  Fanny,  or  my  sorrel  mare  Flora — they  said 
I  ought  to  match  up  with  two  of  a  color ;  and  the  crow- 
baits  offered  me  would  have  stocked  a  horse-ranch'. 
People  with  oxen  offered  me  what  looked  like  good 
swaps,  because  they  were  impatient  to  make  better  time ; 
and  as  I  went  along  so  stylishly  I  began  turning  over  in 


92  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

my  mind  the  question  as  to  whether  it  might  not  be  bet 
ter  to  get  to  Iowa  a  little  later  in  the  year  with  cattle  for 
a  start  than  to  rush  the  season  with  my  fine  mares  and 
pull  up  standing  like  a  gentleman  at  my  own  imaginary 
door. 

2 

As  I  went  on  to  the  westward,  I  began  to  see  Blue 
Mound  rising  like  a  low  mountain  off  my  starboard  bow, 
and  I  stopped  at  a  farm  in  the  foot-hills  of  the  Mound 
where,  because  it  was  rainy,  I  paid  four  shillings  for 
putting  my  horses  in  the  stable.  There  were  two  other 
movers  stopping  at  the  same  place.  They  had  a  light 
wagon  and  a  yoke  of  good  young  steers,  and  had  been 
out  of  Madison  two  days  longer  than  I  had  been.  I 
noticed  that  they  left  their  wagon  in  a  clump  of  bushes, 
and  that  while  one  of  them — a  man  of  fifty  or  more,  slept 
in  the  house,  the  other,  a  young  fellow  of  twenty  or 
twenty-two,  lay  in  the  wagon,  and  that  one  or  the  other 
seemed  always  to  be  on  guard  near  the  vehicle.  The  older 
man  had  a  long  beard  and  a  hooked  nose,  and  seemed  to 
be  a  still  sort  of  person,  until  some  one  spoke  of  slavery ; 
then  he  broke  out  in  a  fierce  speech  denouncing  slave 
holders,  and  the  slavocracy  that  had  the  nation  in  its 
grip. 

"You  talk,"  said  the  farmer,  "like  a  black  Aboli 
tionist." 

"I'm  so  black  an  Abolitionist,"  said  he,  "that  I'd  be 
willing  to  shoulder  a  gun  any  minute  if  I  thought  I  could 
wipe  out  the  curse  of  slavery." 

The  farmer  was  terribly  scandalized  at  this,  and  when 
the  old  man  walked  away  to  his  wagon,  he  said  to  the 
young  ma»  and  me  that  that  sort  of  talk  would  make 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  93 

trouble  and  ruin  the  nation ;  and  that  he  didn't  want  any 
more  of  it  around  his  place. 

"Well,"  said  the  traveler,  "you  won't  have  any  more 
of  it  from  us.  We're  just  pulling  out."  After  the 
farmer  went  away,  he  spoke  to  me  about  it. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that  kind  of  talk  ?"  he  asked. 

"I  don't  own  any  niggers,"  said  I.  "I  don't  ever 
expect  to  own  any.  I  don't  see  how  slavery  can  do  me 
any  good ;  and  I  think  the  slaves  are  human." 

I  had  no  very  clear  ideas  on  the  subject,  and  had 
done  little  thinking  about  it ;  but  what  I  said  seemed  to  be 
satisfactory  to  the  young  man.  He  told  his  friend  about 
it,  and  after  a  while  the  old  man,  whose  name  was  Dun- 
lap,  came  to  me  and  shook  my  hand,  saying  that  he  was 
glad  to  meet  a  young  fellow  of  my  age  who  was  of  the 
right  stripe. 

"Can  you  shoot?"  he  asked. 

I  told  him  I  never  had  had  much  chance  to  learn,  but 
I  had  a  good  gun,  and  had  got  some  game  with  it  almost 
every  day  so  far. 

"What  kind  of  a  gun?"  he  asked. 

I  told  him  it  was  a  double-barreled  shotgun,  and  he 
looked  rather  disappointed.  Then  he  asked  me  if  I  had 
ever  thought  of  going  to  Kansas.  No,  I  told  him,  I 
thought  I  should  rather  locate  in  Iowa. 

"We  are  going  to  Kansas,"  he  said.  "There's  work 
for  real  men  in  Kansas — men  who  believe  in  freedom. 
You  had  better  go  along  with  Amos  Thatcher  and  me." 

I  said  I  didn't  believe  I  could — I  had  planned  to 
locate  in  Towa.  He  dropped  the  subject  by  saying  that  T 
would  overtake  him  and  Thatcher  on  the  road,  and  we 
could  talk  it  over  again.  When  did  I  think  of  getting 


94  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

under  way?  I  answered  that  I  thought  I  should  stay 
hauled  up  to  rest  my  horses  for  a  half-day  anyhow,  so 
perhaps  we  might  camp  that  night  together. 

"A  good  idea/'  said  Thatcher,  smilingly,  as  they  drove 
off.  "Jom  us ;  we  £et  lonesome." 

I  laid  by  that  forenoon  because  one  of  my  mares  had 
limped  a  little  the  day  before,  and  I  was  worrying  for 
fear  she  might  not  be  perfectly  sound.  I  hitched  up  after 
noon  and  drove  on,  anxiously  watching  her  to  see  whether 
I  had  not  been  sucked  in  on  horse  flesh,  as  well  as  in  the 
general  settlement  of  my  mother's  estate.  She  seemed  to 
be  all  right,  however,  and  we  were  making  good  headway 
as  night  drew  on,  and  I  was  halted  by  Amos  Thatcher 
who  said  he  was  on  the  lookout  for  me. 

"We  have  a  station  off  the  road  a  mile  or  so,"  said 
he,  "and  you'll  have  a  hearty  welcome  if  you  come  with 
me — stable  for  your  horses,  and  a  bed  to  sleep  in,  and 
good  victuals." 

I  couldn't  think  what  he  meant  by  a  station  ;  but  it  was 
about  time  to  make  camp  anyhow,  and  so  I  took  him  into 
the  wagon  with  me,  and  we  drove  across  country  by  a 
plain  trail,  through  a  beautiful  piece  of  oak  openings, 
to  a  big  log  house  in  a  fine  grove  of  burr  oaks,  with  a 
log  barn  back  of  it — as  nice  a  farmstead  as  I  had 
seen.  There  were  fifteen  or  twenty  cattle  in  the 
yards,  and  some  sheep  and  hogs,  and  many  fat  hens.  If 
this  was  a  station,  I  thought,  I  envied  the  man  who 
owned  it.  As  we  drove  up  I  saw  a  little  negro  boy  peep 
ing  at  us  from  the  back  of  the  house,  and  as  we  halted  a 
black  woman  ran  out  and  seized  the  pickaninny  by  the 
ear,  and  dragged  him  back  out  of  sight.  I  heard  a  whim 
per  from  the  little  boy,  which  seemed  suddenly  smothered 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  95 

by  something  like  a  hand  clapped  over  his  mouth.  Mr. 
Dunlap's  wagon  was  not  in  sight,  but  its  owner  came  out 
at  the  front  door  and  greeted  me  in  a  very  friendly  way. 

"What  makes  you  call  this  a  station?"  I  asked  of 
Thatcher. 

Dunlap  looked  at  him  sternly. 

"I  forgot  myself,"  said  Thatcher,  more  to  Dunlap 
than  to  me. 

"Never  mind,"  replied  Dunlap.  "If  I  can  tell  B  from 
a  bull's  foot,  it's  all  right." 

Then  turning  to  me  he  said,  "The  old  lady  inside  has  a 
meal  of  victuals  ready  for  us.  Come  in  and  we'll  let  into 
it." 

There  was  nothing  said  at  the  meal  which  explained 
the  things  that  were  so  blind  to  me ;  but  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  talk  about  rifles.  The  farmer  was  named  Preston, 
a  middle-aged  man  who  shaved  all  his  beard  except  what 
grew  under  his  chin,  which  hung  down  in  a  long  black 
fringe  over  his  breast  like  a  window-lambrequin.  His 
wife's  father,  who  was  an  old  Welshman  named  Evans, 
had  worked  in  the  lead  mines  over  toward  Dubuque, 
until  Preston  had  married  his  daughter  and  taken  up  his 
farm  in  the  oak  openings.  They  had  been  shooting  at  a 
mark  that  afternoon,  with  Sharp's  rifles  carried  by  Dun- 
lap  and  Thatcher,  and  the  old-fashioned  squirrel  rifles 
owned  on  the  farm.  After  supper  they  brought  out  these 
rifles  and  compared  them.  Preston  insisted  that  the 
squirrel  rifles  were  better. 

"Not  for  real  service,"  said  Dunlap,,  throwing  a 
cartridge  into  the  breech  of  the  Sharp,  and  ejecting  it  to 
show  how  fast  it  could  be  done. 

"But  I  can  roll  a  squirrel's  eye  right  out  of  his  head 


96  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

most  every  time  with  the  old-style  gun,"  said  Preston. 
"This  is  the  gun  that  won  the  Battle  of  New  Orleans." 

"It  wouldn't  have  won  against  the  Sharp,"  said 
Thatcher;  "and  you  know  we  expect  to  have  a  larger 
mark  than  a  squirrel's  head,  when  we  get  to  Kansas." 

This  was  the  first  breech-loader  I  had  ever  seen,  and 
I  looked  it  over  with  a  buying  eye.  It  didn't  seem  to  rne 
that  it  would  be  much  better  for  hunting  than  the  old- 
fashioned  rifle,  loaded  with  powder  and  a  molded  bullet 
rammed  down  with  a  patch  of  oiled  cloth  around  it ;  for 
after  you  have  shot  at  your  game  once,  you  either  have  hit 
it,  or  it  runs  or  flies  away.  If  you  have  hit  it,  you  can 
generally  get  it,  and  if  it  goes  away,  you  have  time  to 
reload.  Besides  those  big  cartridges  must  be  costly,  I 
thought,  and  said  so  to  Mr.  Dunlap. 

"When  you're  hunting  Border  Ruffians,"  said  he,  "a 
little  expense  don't  count  one  way  or  the  other ;  and  you 
may  be  willing  to  pay  dear  for  a  chance  to  reload  three 
or  four  times  while  the  other  man  is  ramming  home  a 
new  charge.  Give  me  the  new  guns,  the  new  ideas,  and 
the  old  doctrine  of  freedom  to  fight  for.  Don't  you  see?" 

"Why,  of  course,"  said  I,  "I'm  for  freedom.  That's 
why  I'm  going  out  on  the  prairies." 

"Prairies !"  said  old  Evans.  "Prairies !  What  do  you 
expect  to  do  on  the  prairies?" 

"Farm,"  I  answered. 

"All  these  folks  that  are  rushing  to  the  prairies,"  said 
the  old  man,  "will  starve  out  and  come  back.  God  makes 
trees  grow  to  show  men  where  the  good  land  is.  I  read 
history,  and  there's  no  country  that's  good  for  anything, 
except  where  men  have  cut  the  trees,  niggered  off  the 
logs,  grubbed  out  the  stumps,  and  made  fields  of  it — 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  97 

and  if  there  are  stones,  it's  all  the  better.  'In  the  sweat  of 
thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread,'  said  God  to  Adam,  and 
when  you  go  to  the  prairies  where  it's  all  ready  for  the 
plow,  you  are  trying  to  dodge  God's  curse  on  our  first 
parents.  You  won't  prosper.  It  stands  to  reason  that  any 
land  that  is  good  will  grow  trees." 

"Some  of  this  farm  was  prairie,"  put  in  Preston,  "and 
I  don't  see  but  it's  just  as  good  as  the  rest." 

"It  was  all  openings,"  replied  Evans.  "The  trees  was 
here  once,  and  got  killed  by  the  fires,  or  somehow.  It  was 
all  woods  once." 

"You  cut  down  trees  to  make  land  grow  grass,"  said 
Thatcher.  "I  should  think  that  God  must  have  meant 
grass  to  be  the  sign  of  good  ground." 

"Isn't  the  sweat  of  your  face  just  as  plenty  when  you 
tlelve  in  the  prairies?"  asked  Dunlap. 

"You  fly  in  the  face  of  God's  decree,  and  run  against 
His  manifest  warning  when  you  try  to  make  a  prairie 
into  a  farm,"  said  Evans.  "You'll  see!" 

"Sold  again,  and  got  the  tin,  and  sucked  another 
Dutchman  in!"  was  the  ditty  that  ran  through  my  head 
as  I  heard  this.  Old  man  Evans'  way  of  looking  at  the 
matter  seemed  reasonable  to  my  cautious  mind ;  and, 
anyhow,  when  a  man  has  grown  old  he  knows  many 
things  that  he  can  give  no  good  reason  for.  I  have 
always  found  that  the  well-educated  fellow  with  a  deep- 
sounding  and  plausible  philosophy  that  runs  against  the 
teachings  of  experience,  is  likely,  especially  in  farming,  to 
make  a  failure  when  he  might  have  saved  himself  by 
doing  as  the  old  settlers  do,  who  won't  answer  his  argu 
ments  but  make  a  good  living  just  the  same,  while  the 
new-fangled  practises  send  their  followers  to  the  poor- 


98  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

house.  At  that  moment,  I  would  have  traded  my  Iowa 
farm  for  any  good  piece  of  land  covered  with  trees.  But 
Dunlap  and  Thatcher  had  something  else  to  talk  to  me 
about.  They  were  for  the  prairies,  especially  the  prairies 
of  Kansas. 

"Kansas,"  said  Dunlap,  "will  be  one  of  the  great 
states  of  the  Union,  one  of  these  days.  Come  with  us,  and 
help  make  it  a  free  state.  We  need  a  hundred  thousand 
young  farmers,  who  believe  in  liberty,  and  will  fight  for 
it.  Come  with  us,  take  up  a  farm,  and  carry  a  Sharp's 
rifle  against  the  Border  Ruffians !" 

This  sounded  convincing  to  me,  but  of  course  I 
couldn't  make  up  my  mind  to  anything  of  this  sort  with 
out  days  and  days  of  consideration ;  but  I  listened  to  what 
they  said.  They  told  me  of  an  army  of  free-state  emi 
grants  that  was  gathering  along  the  border  to  win  Kansas 
for  freedom.  They,  Dunlap  and  Thatcher,  were  going  to 
Marion,  Iowa,  and  from  there  by  the  Mormon  Trail  across 
to  a  place  called  Tabor,  and  from  there  to  Lawrence, 
Kansas.  They  were  New  England  Yankees.  Thatcher 
had  been  to  college,  and  was  studying  law.  Dunlap  had 
been  a  business  man  in  Connecticut,  and  was  a  friend  of 
John  Brown,  who  was  then  on  his  way  to  Kansas. 

"The  Missouri  Compromise  has  been  repealed,"  said 
Thatcher,  his  eyes  shining,  "and  the  Kansas-Nebraska 
Bill  has  thrown  the  fertile  state  of  Kansas  into  the  ring 
to  be  fought  for  by  free-state  men  and  pro-slavery  men. 
The  Border  Ruffians  of  Missouri  are  breaking  the  law 
every  day  by  going  over  into  Kansas,  never  meaning  to 
live  there  only  long  enough  to  vote,  and  are  corrupting 
the  state  government.  They  are  corrupting  it  by  violence 
and  illegal  voting.  If  slavery  wins  in  Kansas  and 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  99 

Nebraska,  it  will  control  the  Union  forever.  The  great 
est  battle  im  our  history  is  about  to  be  fought  out  in  Kan 
sas,  a  battle  to  see  whether  this  nation  shall  be  a  slave 
nation,  in  every  state  and  every  town,  or  free.  Dunlap 
and  I  and  thousands  of  others  are  going  down  there  to 
take  the  state  of  Kansas  into  our  own  hands,  peacefully  if 
we  can,  by  violence  if  we  must.  We  are  willing  to  die  to 
make  the  United  States  a  free  nation.  Come  with  us !" 

"But  we  don't  expect  to  die,"  urged  Dunlap,  seeing 
that  this  looked  pretty  serious  to  me.  "We  expect  to  live, 
and  get  farms,  and  make  homes,  and  prosper,  after  we 
have  shown  the  Border  Ruffians  the  muzzles  of  those 
rifles.  Thatcher,  bring  the  passengers  in !" 


Thatcher  went  out  of  the  room  the  back  way. 

"We  call  this  a  station,"  went  on  Dunlap,  "because 
it's  a  stopping-place  on  the  U.  G.  Railway." 

"What's  the  U.  G.  Railway?"  I  asked. 

"Don't  you  know  that  ?"  he  queried. 

"I'm  only  a  canal  hand,"  I  answered,  "going  to  a 
farm  out  on  the  prairie,  that  I  was  euchred  into  taking 
in  settling  with  a  scoundrel  for  my  share  of  my  father's 
property ;  and  I'm  pretty  green." 

Thatcher  came  in  then,  leading  the  little  black  boy 
by  the  hand,  and  following  him  was  the  negro  woman, 
carrying  a  baby  at  her  breast,  and  holding  by  the  hand  a 
little  woolly-headed  pickaninny  about  three  years  old. 
They  were  ragged  and  poverty-stricken,  and  seemed 
scared  at  everything.  The  woman  came  in  bowing  and 
scraping  to  me,  and  the  two  little  boys  hid  behind  her 
skirts  and  peeked  around  at  me  with  big  white  eyes. 


ioo  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Tell  the  gentleman,"  said  Thatcher,  "where  you're 
going." 

"We're  gwine  to  Canayda,"  said  she,  "  'scusin'  your 
presence." 

"How  are  you  going  to  get  to  Canada?"  asked 
Thatcher. 

"The  good  white  folks,"  said  she,  "will  keep  us  hid 
out  nights  till  we  gits  thar." 

"What  will  happen,"  said  Thatcher,  "if  this  young 
man  tells  any  one  that  he's  seen  you  ?" 

"The  old  massa,"  said  she,  "will  find  out,  an'  he'll 
hunt  us  wif  houn's,  an'  fotch  us  back,  and  then  he'll  sell  us 
down  the  ribber  to  the  cotton-f  iel's." 

I  never  heard  anything  quite  so  pitiful  as  this  speech. 
I  had  never  known  before  what  it  must  mean  to  be  really 
hunted.  The  woman  shrank  back  toward  the  door 
through  which  she  had  come,  her  face  grew  a  sort  of 
grayish  color ;  and  then  ran  to  me  and  throwing  herself 
on  her  knees,  she  took  hold  of  my  hands,  and  begged  me 
for  God's  sake  not  to  tell  on  her,  not  to  have  her  carried 
back,  not  to  fix  it  so  she'd  be  sold  down  the  river  to  work 
in  the  cotton-fields. 

"I  won't,"  I  said,  "I  tell  you  I  won't.  I  want  you  to 
get  to  Canada!" 

"God  bress  yeh,"  she  said.  "I  know'd  yeh  was  a  good 
young  gemman  as  soon  as  I  set  eyes  on  yeh!  I  know'd 
yeh  was  quality !" 

"Who  do  you  expect  to  meet  in  Canada?"  asked 
Thatcher. 

"God  willm',"  said  she,  "I'm  gwine  to  find  Abe  Felton. 
the  pa  of  dese  yere  chillun." 

"The  Underground  Railway,"  said  Dnnlap,  "knows 


I  BECOME  COW  VAN  DEM  ARK  101 

where  Abe  is,  and  will  send  Sarah  along  with  change  of 
cars.  You  may  go,  Sarah.  Now,"  he  went  on,  as  the 
negroes  disappeared,  "you  have  it  in  your  power  to  exer 
cise  the  right  of  an  American  citizen  and  perform  the 
God-accursed  legal  duty  to  report  these  fugitives  at  the 
next  town,  join  a  posse  to  hunt  them  down  under  a  law 
of  the  United  States,  get  a  reward  for  doing  it,  and  know 
that  you  have  vindicated  the  law — or  you  can  stand  with 
God  and  tell  the  law  to  go  to  hell — where  it  came  from — 
and  help  the  Underground  Railway  to  carry  these  people 
to  heaven.  Which  will  you  do?" 

"I'll  tell  the  law  to  go  to  hell,"  said  I. 

Dunlap  and  Thatcher  looked  at  each  other  as  if 
relieved.  I  have  always  suspected  that  I  was  taken  into 
their  secret  without  their  ordinary  precautions ;  and  that 
for  a  while  they  were  a  little  dubious  for  fear  that  they 
had  spilt  the  milk  of  secrecy.  But  all  my  life  people  have 
told  me  their  secrets. 

They  urged  me  hard  to  go  with  them ;  and  talked  so 
favorably  about  the  soil  of  the  prairies  that  I  began  to 
think  well  again  of  my  Iowa  farm.  When  I  had  made  it 
plain  that  I  had  to  have  a  longer  time  to  think  it  over,  they 
began  urging  me  to  let  them  have  my  horses  on  some 
sort  of  a  trade ;  and  I  began  to  see  that  a  part  of  what 
they  had  wanted  all  the  time  was  a  faster  team  as  well  as 
a  free-state  recruit.  They  urged  on  me  the  desirability  of 
having  cattle  instead  of  horses  when  I  reached  my  farm. 

"Cows,  yes,"  said  I,  "but  not  steers." 

So  I  slept  over  it  until  morning.  Then  I  made  them 
the  proposition  that  if  they  would  arrange  with  Preston  to 
trade  me  four  cows,  which  I  would  select  from  his  herd, 
and  would  provide  for  my  board  with  Preston  until  I 


102  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

could  break  them  to  drive,  and  would  furnish  yokes  and 
chains  in  place  of  my  harness,  I  would  let  them  have  the 
team  for  a  hundred  dollars  boot-money.  Preston  said 
he'd  like  to  have  me  make  my  selection  first,  and  when  I 
picked  out  three-year-old  heifers,  two  of  which  were 
giving  milk,  he  said  it  was  a  whack,  if  it  didn't  take  me 
more  than  a  week  to  break  them.  Dunlap  and  Thatcher 
hitched  up,  and  started  off  the  next  morning.  I  had 
become  Cow  Vandemark  overnight,  and  am  still  Cow 
Vandemark  in  the  minds  of  the  old  settlers  of  Vandemark 
Township  and  some  who  have  just  picked  the  name  up. 

But  I  did  not  take  on  my  new  name  without  a  struggle, 
for  Flora  and  Fanny  had  become  dear  to  me  since  leaving 
Madison — my  first  horses.  How  I  got  my  second  team 
of  horses  is  connected  with  one  of  the  most  important 
incidents  in  my  life ;  it  was  a  long  time  before  I  got  them 
and  it  will  be  some  time  before  I  can  tell  about  it.  In 
the  meantime,  there  were  Flora  and  Fanny,  hitched  to 
Dunlap  and  Thatcher's  light  wagon,  disappearing  among 
the  burr  oaks  toward  the  Dubuque  highway.  I  thought 
of  my  pride  as  I  drove  away  from  Madison  with  these 
two  steeds,  and  of  the  pretty  figure  I  cut  the  morning 
when  red-haired  Alice  climbed  up,  offered  to  go  with  me, 
and  kissed  me  before  she  climbed  down.  Would  she  have 
done  this  if  I  had  been  driving  oxen,  or  still  worse,  those 
animals  which  few  thought  worth  anything  as  draught 
animals — cows  ?  And  then  I  thought  of  Flora's  lameness 
the  day  before  yesterday.  Was  it  honest  to  let  Dunlap 
and  Thatcher  drive  off  to  liberate  the  nation  with  a  horse 
that  might  go  lame? 

"Let  me  have  a  horse,"  said  I  to  Preston.  "I  want  to 
catch  them  and  tell  them  something. 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  103 

I  rode  up  behind  the  Abolitionists'  wagon,  waving  my 
hat  and  shouting.  They  pulled  up  and  waited. 

"What's  up?"  asked  Dunlap.  "Going  with  us  after 
all  ?  I  hope  so,  my  boy." 

"No,"  said  I,  "I  just  wanted  to  say  that  that  nigh 

mare  was  lame  day  before  yesterday,  and  I 1 — I 

didn't  want  you  to  start  off  with  her  without  knowing  it." 

Dunlap  asked  about  her  lameness,  and  got  out  to  look 
her  over.  He  felt  of  her  muscles,  and  carefully  scruti 
nized  her  for  swelling  or  swinney  or  splint  or  spavin  or 
thoroughpin.  Then  he  lifted  one  foot  after  another,  and 
cleaned  out  about  the  frog,  tapping  the  hoof  all  over  for 
soreness.  Down  deep  beside  the  frog  of  the  foot  which 
she  had  favored  he  found  a  little  pebble. 

"That's  what  it  was,"  said  he,  holding  the  pebble  up. 
"She'll  be  all  right  now.  Thank  you  for  telling  me.  It 
was  the  square  thing  to  do." 

"If  you  don't  feel  safe  to  go  on  with  the  team,"  said 
I,  "I'll  trade  back." 

"No,"  said  he,  "we're  needed  in  Kansas ;  and,"  turn 
ing  up  an  oil-cloth  and  showing  me  a  dozen  or  so  of  the 
Sharp's  rifles,  "so  are  these.  And  let  me  tell  you,  boy,  if 
I'm  any  judge  of  men,  the  time  will  come  when  you  won't 
feel  so  bad  to  lose  half  a  dozen  horses,  as  you  feel  now  to 
be  traded  out  of  Flora  and  Fanny,  and  make  a  hundred 
dollars  by  the  trade.  Get  up,  Flora ;  go  long,  Fanny ; 
good-by,  Jake !"  And  they  drove  off  to  the  Border  Wars. 
I  had  made  my  first  sacrifice  to  the  cause  of  the  produc 
tiveness  of  the  Vandemark  Farm. 

That  night  a  wagon  went  away  from  the  Preston  farm 
with  the  passengers  going  to  Canada  by  the  U.  G.  Rail 
way.  The  next  morning  I  began  the  task  of  fitting  yokes 


104  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

to  my  two  span  of  heifers,  and  that  afternoon,  I  gave 
Lily  and  Cherry  their  first  lesson.  I  had  had  some  expe 
rience  in  driving  cattle  on  Mrs.  Fogg's  farm  in  Herkimer 
County,  but  I  should  have  made  a  botch  job  of  it  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Mr.  Preston,  who  knew  all  there  was  to  know 
about  cattle,  and  while  protesting  that  cows  could  not  be 
driven,  helped  me  drive  them.  In  less  than  a  week  my 
cows  were  driving  as  prettily  as  any  oxen.  They  were 
light  and  active,  and  overtook  team  after  team  of  laboring 
steers  every  day  I  drove  them.  Furthermore,  they  gave 
me  milk.  I  fed  them  well,  worked  them  rather  lightly, 
and  by  putting  the  new  milk  in  a  churn  I  bought  at  Min 
eral  Point,  I  found  that  the  motion  of  the  wagon  would 
bring  the  butter  as  well  as  any  churning.  I  had  cream  for 
my  coffee,  butter  for  my  bread,  milk  for  my  mush,  and 
lived  high.  A  good  deal  of  fun  was  poked  at  me  about  my 
team  of  cows ;  but  people  were  always  glad  to  camp  with 
me  and  share  my  fare. 

Economically,  our  cows  ought  to  be  made  to  do  a 
good  deal  of  the  work  of  the  farms.  I  have  always 
believed  this ;  but  now  a  German  expert  has  proved  it. 
I  read  about  it  the  other  day  in  a  bulletin  put  out  by  the 
Agricultural  Department ;  but  I  proved  it  in  Vandemark 
Township  before  the  man  was  born  that  wrote  the  bulle 
tin.  If  not  pushed  too  hard,  cows  will  work  and  give 
almost  as  much  milk  as  if  not  worked  at  all.  This  state 
ment  of  course  won't  apply  to  the  fancy  cows  which  are 
high-power  milk  machines,  and  need  to  be  packed  in  cot 
ton,  and  kept  in  satin-lined  stalls;  but  to  such  cows  as 
farmers  have,  and  always  will  have,  it  does  apply. 

I  was  sorry  to  leave  the  Prestons,  they  were  such 
whole-souled,  earnest  people ;  and  before  I  did  leave  them 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  105 

I  was  a  full-fledged  Abolitionist  so  far  as  belief  was  con 
cerned.  I  never  did  become  active,  however,  in  spiriting 
slaves  from  one  station  to  another  of  the  U.  G.  Railway. 

I  drove  out  to  the  highway,  and  turning  my  prow  to 
the  west,  I  joined  again  in  the  stream  of  people  swarming 
westward.  The  tide  had  swollen  in  the  week  during 
which  I  had  laid  by  at  the  Prestons'.  The  road  was 
rutted,  poached  deep  where  wet  and  beaten  hard  where 
dry,  or  pulverized  into  dust  by  the  stream  of  emigration. 
Here  we  went,  oxen,  cows,  mules,  horses ;  coaches,  car 
riages,  blue  jeans,  corduroys,  rags,  tatters,  silks,  satins, 
caps,  tall  hats,  poverty,  riches ;  speculators,  missionaries, 
land-hunters,  merchants ;  criminals  escaping  from  justice ; 
couples  fleeing  from  the  law  ;  families  seeking  homes  ;  the 
wrecks  of  homes  seeking  secrecy ;  gold-seekers  bear 
ing  southwest  to  the  Overland  Trail ;  politicians  looking 
for  places  in  which  to  win  fame  and  fortune ;  editors  hunt 
ing  opportunities  for  founding  newspapers ;  adventurers 
on  their  way  to  everywhere ;  lawyers  with  a  few  books ; 
Abolitionists  going  to  the  Border  War;  innocent-looking 
outfits  carrying  fugitive  slaves ;  officers  hunting  escaped 
negroes ;  and  most  numerous  of  all,  homeseekers  "hunting 
country" — a  nation  on  wheels,  an  empire  in  the  commotion 
and  pangs  of  birth.  Down  I  went  with  the  rest,  across 
ferries,  through  Dodgeville,  Mineral  Point  and  Platteville, 
past  a  thousand  vacant  sites  for  farms  toward  my  own 
farm  so  far  from  civilization,  shot  out  of  civilization  by 
the  forces  of  civilization  itself. 

I  saw  the  old  mining  country  from  Mineral  Point  to 
Dubuque,  where  lead  had  been  dug  for  many  years,  and 
where  the  men  lived  who  dug  the  holes  and  were  called 
Badgers,  thus  giving  the  people  of  Wisconsin  their  nick- 


io6  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

name  as  distinguished  from  the  Illinois  people  who  came 
up  the  rivers  to  work  in  the  spring,  and  went  back  in  the 
fall,  and  were  therefore  named  after  a  migratory  fish  and 
called  Suckers ;  and  at  last,  I  saw  from  its  eastern  bank 
far  off  to  the  west,  the  bluffy  shores  of  Iowa,  and  down 
by  the  river  the  keen  spires  and  brick  and  wood  buildings 
of  the  biggest  town  I  had  seen  since  leaving  Milwaukee, 
the  town  of  Dubuque. 

I  camped  that  night  in  the  northwestern  corner  of 
Illinois,  in  a  regular  city  of  movers,  all  waiting  their  turns 
at  the  ferry  which  crossed  the  Mississippi  to  the  Land  of 
Promise. 

4 

Iowa  did  not  look  much  like  a  prairie  country  from 
where  I  stood.  The  Iowa  shore  towered  above  the  town 
of  Dubuque,  clothed  with  woods  to  the  top,  and  looking 
more  like  York  State  than  anything  I  had  seen  since  I 
had  taken  the  schooner  at  Buffalo  to  come  up  the  Lakes. 
I  lay  that  night,  unable  to  sleep.  For  one  thing,  I  needed 
to  be  wakeful,  lest  some  of  the  motley  crowd  of  movers 
might  take  a  fancy  to  my  cattle.  I  was  learning  by  expe 
rience  how  to  take  care  of  myself  and  mine ;  besides,  I 
wanted  to  be  awake  early  so  as  to  take  passage  by  ferry 
boat  "before  soon"  as  the  Hoosiers  say,  in  the  morning. 

That  April  morning  was  still  only  a  gray  dawn  when 
I  drove  down  to  the  ferry,  without  stopping  for  my 
breakfast.  A  few  others  of  those  who  looked  forward 
to  a  rush  for  the  boat  had  got  there  ahead  of  me,  and  we 
waited  in  line.  I  saw  that  I  should  have  to  go  on  the 
second  trip  rather  than  the  first,  but  movers  can  not  be 
impatient,  and  the  driving  of  cattle  cures  a  person  of 
being  in  a  hurry ;  so  I  was  in  no  great  taking  because  of 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  107 

this  little  delay.  As  I  sat  there  in  my  wagon,  a  black- 
bearded,  scholarly-looking  man  stepped  up  and  spoke  to 
me. 

"Going  across?"  he  asked. 

"As  soon  as  the  boat  will  take  me,"  I  said. 

"Heavy  loaded?"  he  asked.  "Have  you  room  for  a 
passenger  ?" 

"I  guess  I  can  accommodate  you,"  I  answered. 
"Climb  in." 

"It  isn't  for  myself  I'm  asking,"  he  said.  "There's 
a  lady  here  that  wants  to  ride  in  a  covered  wagon,  and  sit 
back  where  she  can't  see  the  water.  It  makes  her  dizzy — 
and  scares  her  awfully ;  can  you  take  her  ?" 

"If  she  can  ride  back  there  on  the  bed,"  said  I. 

He  peeped  in,  and  said  that  this  was  the  very  place  for 
her.  She  could  lie  down  and  cover  up  her  head  and  never 
know  she  was  crossing  the  river  at  all.  In  a  minute,  and 
while  it  was  still  twilight,  just  as  the  ferry-boat  came  to 
the  landing,  he  returned  with  the  lady.  She  was  dressed 
in  some  brown  fabric,  and  wore  a  thick  veil  over  her 
face ;  but  as  she  climbed  in  I  saw  that  she  had  yellow  hair 
and  bright  eyes  and  lips ;  and  that  she  was  trembling  so 
that  her  hands  shook  as  she  took  hold  of  the  wagon-bow, 
and  her  voice  quivered  as  she  thanked  me,  in  low  tones. 
The  man  with  the  black  beard  pressed  her  hand  as  he  left 
her.  He  offered  me  a  dollar  for  her  passage  ;  but  I  called 
his  attention  to  the  fact  that  it  would  cost  only  two  shill 
ings  more  for  me  to  cross  with  her  than  if  I  went  alone, 
and  refused  to  take  more. 

"There  are  a  good  many  rough  fellows,"  said  he,  "at 
these  ferries,  that  make  it  unpleasant  for  a  lady,  some 
times—" 


io8  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Not  when  she's  with  me,"  I  said. 

He  looked  at  me  sharply,  as  if  surprised  that  I  was 
not  so  green  as  I  looked — though  I  was  pretty  verdant. 
Anyhow,  he  said,  if  I  should  be  asked  if  any  one  was  with 
me,  it  would  save  her  from  being  scared  if  I  would  say 
that  I  was  alone — she  was  the  most  timid  woman  in  the 
world. 

"I'll  have  to  tell  the  ferryman,"  I  said. 

"Will  you?"  he  asked.    "Why?" 

"I'd  be  cheating  him  if  I  didn't,"  I  answered. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  as  if  provoked  at  me,  "but  don't 
tell  any  one  else." 

"I  ain't  very  good  at  lying,"  I  replied. 

He  said  for  me  to  do  the  best  I  could  for  the  lady,  and 
hurried  off.  In  the  meantime,  the  lady  had  crept  back  on 
my  straw-bed,  and  pulled  the  quilts  completely  over  her. 
She  piled  pillows  on  one  side  of  her,  and  stirred  the 
straw  up  on  the  other,  so  that  when  she  lay  down  the  bed 
was  as  smooth  as  if  nobody  was  in  it.  It  looked  as  it 
might  if  a  heedless  boy  had  crawled  out  of  it  after  a 
night's  sleep,  and  carelessly  thrown  the  coverlet  back 
over  it.  I  could  hardly  believe  I  had  a  passenger.  When 
I  was  asked  for  the  ferriage,  I  paid  for  two,  and  the 
ferryman  asked  where  the  other  was. 

"Back  in  the  bed,"  I  said. 

He  looked  back,  and  said,  "Well,  I  owe  you  something 
for  your  honesty.  I  never'd  have  seen  him.  Sick?" 

"Not  rery,"  said  I.    "Don't  like  the  water." 

"Some  are  that  way,"  he  returned,  and  went  on  col 
lecting  fares. 

As  we  droye  up  from  the  landing,  through  the  rutted 
streets  of  tke  old  mining  and  Indian-trading  town,  the 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  109 

black -bearded  man  came  to  me  as  we  stopped,  held  back 
by  a  jam  of  covered  wagons — a  wonderful  sight,  even  to 
me — and  as  if  talking  to  me,  said  to  the  woman,  "You'd 
better  ride  on  through  town ;"  and  then  to  me,  "Are  you 
going  on  through?" 

"I've  got  to  buy  some  supplies,"  said  I ;  "but  I've  noth 
ing  to  stop  me  but  that." 

"Tell  me  what  you  want,"  he  said  hurriedly,  and  look 
ing  about  as  if  expecting  some  danger,  "and  I'll  buy  it 
for  you  and  bring  it  on.  Which  way  are  you  going?" 

"West  into  Iowa,"  I  answered. 

"Go  on,"  said  he,  "and  I'll  make  it  right  with  you. 
Camp  somewhere  west  of  town.  I'll  come  along  to-night 
or  to-morrow.  I'll  make  it  right  with  you." 

"I  don't  see  through  this,"  I  said,  with  my  usual  inde 
cision  as  to  doing  something  I  did  not  understand.  "I 
thought  I'd  look  around  Dubuque  a  little." 

"For  God's  sake,"  said  the  woman  from  the  bed,  "take 
me  on — take  me  on !" 

Her  tones  were  so  pleading,  she  seemed  in  such  an 
agony  of  terror,  that  I  suddenly  made  up  my  mind  in  her 
favor.  Surely  there  would  be  no  harm  in  carrying  her  on 
as  she  wished. 

"All  right,"  I  said  to  her,  but  looking  at  him,  "I'll 
take  you  on !  You  can  count  on  me."  And  then  to  him, 
"I'll  drive  on  until  I  find  a  good  camping-place  late  this 
afternoon.  You'll  have  to  find  us  the  best  way  you  can." 

He  thanked  me,  and  I  gave  him  a  list  of  the  things  I 
wanted.  Then  he  went  on  up  the  street  ahead  of  us, 
walking  calmly,  and  looking  about  him  as  any  stranger 
might  have  done.  We  stood  for  some  time,  waiting  for 
the  jam  of  teams  to  clear,  and  I  gee-upped  and  whoa- 


i  io  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

hawed  on  along  the  street,  until  we  came  to  a  building  on 
which  was  a  big  sign,  "Post-Office."  There  was  a  queue 
of  people  waiting  for  their  mail,  extending  out  at  the  door, 
and  far  down  the  sidewalk.  In  this  string  of  emigrants 
stood  our  friend,  the  black-bearded  man.  Just  as  we 
passed,  a  rather  thin,  stooped  man,  walking  along  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  rushed  across,  right  in  front  of 
my  lead  team,  and  drawing  a  pistol,  aimed  at  the  black- 
bearded  man,  who  in  turn  stepped  out  of  line  and  drew 
his  own  weapon. 

"I  call  upon  you  all  to  witness,"  said  the  black-bearded 
man,  "that  I  act  in  self-defense." 

A  bystander  seized  the  thin  man's  pistol  hand,  and 
yelled  at  him  not  to  shoot  or  he  might  kill  some  one — of 
course  he  meant  some  one  he  did  not  aim  at,  but  it 
sounded  a  little  funny,  and  I  laughed.  Several  joined  in 
the  laugh,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  confusion.  At 
last  I  heard  the  black-bearded  man  say,  "I'm  here  alone. 
He's  accused  his  wife  of  being  too  thick  with  a  dozen 
men.  He's  insanely  jealous,  gentlemen.  I  suppose  his 
wife  may  have  left  him,  but  I'm  here  alone.  I  just 
crossed  the  river  alone,  and  I'm  going  west.  If  he's  got  a 
warrant,  he's  welcome  to  have  it  served  if  he  finds  his 
wife  with  me.  Come  on,  gentlemen — but  take  the  fool's 
pistol  away  from  him." 

As  I  drove  on  I  saw  that  the  woman  had  thrown  off 
the  quilt,  and  was  peeping  out  at  the  opening  in  the  cover 
at  the  back,  watching  the  black-bearded  and  the  thin  man 
moving  off  in  a  group  of  fellows,  one  of  whom  held  the 
black-bearded  man  by  the  arm  a  good  deal  as  a  deputy 
sheriff  might  have  done. 

The  roads  leading  west  out  of  Dubuque  were  horrible, 


be 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  ill 

then,  being  steep  stony  trails  coming  down  the  hollows 
and  washed  like  watercourses  at  every  rain.  Teams  were 
stalled,  sometimes  three  and  four  span  of  animals  were 
used  to  get  one  load  to  the  top,  and  we  were  a  good 
deal  delayed.  I  was  so  busy  trying  to  keep  from  upsetting 
when  I  drove  around  stalled  outfits  and  abandoned 
wagons,  and  so  occupied  in  finding  places  where  I  might 
stop  and  breathe  my  team,  that  I  paid  little  attention  to 
my  queer-acting  passenger ;  but  once  when  we  were  stand 
ing  I  noticed  that  she  was  covered  up  again,  and  seemed 
to  be  crying.  As  we  topped  the  bluffs,  and  drew  out  into 
the  open,  she  sat  up  and  began  to  rearrange  her  hair. 
After  a  few  miles,  we  reached  a  point  from  which  I  could 
see  the  Iowa  prairie  sweeping  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see.  I  drew  out  by  the  roadside  to  look  at  it,  as  a  man 
appraises  one  with  whom  he  must  live — as  a  friend  or  an 
enemy. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  sight.  It  was  like  a  great 
green  sea.  The  old  growth  had  been  burned  the  fall 
before,  and  the  spring  grass  scarcely  concealed  the  brown 
sod  on  the  uplands ;  but  all  the  swales  were  coated  thick 
with  an  emerald  growth  full-bite  high,  and  in  the  deeper, 
wetter  hollows  grew  cowslips,  already  showing  their 
glossy,  golden  flowers.  The  hillsides  were  thick  with  the 
woolly  possblummies*  in  their  furry  spring  coats  protect 
ing  them  against  the  frost  and  chill,  showing  purple-violet 
on  the  outside  of  a  cup  filled  with  golden  stamens,  the 
first  fruits  of  the  prairie  flowers  ;  on  the  warmer  southern 


*"Paas-bloeme"  one  suspects  is  the  Rondout  Valley  origin 
of  this  term  applied  to  a  flower,  possibly  seen  by  the  author  on 
this  occasion  for  the  first  time — the  American  pasque-flower, 
the  Iowa  prairie  type  of  which  is  Anemone  patens:  the  knight- 
liest  little  flower  of  the  Iowa  uplands. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


ii2  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

slopes  a  few  of  the  splendid  bird's-foot  violets  of  the 
prairie  were  showing  the  azure  color  which  would  soon 
make  some  of  the  hillsides  as  blue  as  the  sky ;  and  stand 
ing  higher  than  the  peering  grass  rose  the  rough-leafed 
stalks  of  green  which  would  soon  show  us  the  yellow 
puccoons  and  sweet-williams  and  scarlet  lilies  and  shoot 
ing  stars,  and  later  the  yellow  rosin-weeds,  Indian  dye- 
flower  and  goldenrod.  The  keen  northwest  wind  swept 
before  it  a  flock  of  white  clouds;  and  under  the  clouds 
went  their  shadows,  walking  over  the  lovely  hills  like 
dark  ships  over  an  emerald  sea. 

The  wild-fowl  were  clamoring  north  for  the  summer's 
campaign  of  nesting.  Everywhere  the  sky  was  harrowed 
by  the  wedged  wild  geese,  their  voices  as  sweet  as  organ 
tones ;  and  ducks  quacked,  whistled  and  whirred  overhead, 
a  true  rain  of  birds  beating  up  against  the  wind.  Over 
every  slew,  on  all  sides,  thousands  of  ducks  of  many 
kinds,  and  several  sorts  of  geese  hovered,  settled,  or 
burst  up  in  eruptions  of  birds,  their  back-feathers  shining 
like  bronze  as  they  turned  so  as  to  reflect  the  sunlight  to 
my  eyes;  while  so  far  up  that  they  looked  like  specks, 
away  above  the  wind  it  seemed,  so  quietly  did  they  circle 
and  sail,  floated  huge  flocks  of  cranes — the  sand-hill 
cranes  in  their  slaty-gray,  and  the  whooping  cranes, 
white  as  snow  with  black  heads  and  feet,  each  bird  with  a 
ten-foot  spread  of  wing,  piping  their  wild  cries  which  fell 
down  to  me  as  if  from  another  world. 

It  was  sublime !  Bird,  flower,  grass,  cloud,  wind,  and 
the  immense  expanse  of  sunny  prairie,  swelling  up  into 
undulations  like  a  woman's  breasts  turgid  with  milk  for 
a  hungry  race.  I  forgot  myself  and  my  position  in  the 
world,  my  loneliness,  my  strange  passenger,  the  problems 


I  BECOME  COW  VANDEMARK  113 

of  my  life ;  my  heart  swelled,  and  my  throat  filled.  I  sat 
looking  at  it,  with  the  tears  trickling  from  my  eyes,  the 
uplift  of  my  soul  more  than  I  could  bear.  It  was  not  the 
thought  of  my  mother  that  brought  the  tears  to  my  eyes, 
but  my  happiness  in  finding  the  newest,  strangest,  most 
delightful,  sternest,  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world — 
the  Iowa  prairie — that  made  me  think  of  my  mother.  If 
I  only  could  have  found  her  alive!  If  I  only  could  have 
had  her  with  me !  And  as  I  thought  of  this  I  realized  that 
the  woman  of  the  ferry  had  climbed  over  the  back  of  the 
spring-seat  and  was  sitting  beside  me. 

"I  don't  wonder,"  said  she,  "that  you  cry.    Gosh!    It 
scares  me  to  death !" 


CHAPTER  VII 

ADVENTURE  ON   THE  OLD  RIDGE  ROAD 

\7ANDEMARK  TOWNSHIP  and  Monterey  County, 
*  as  any  one  may  see  by  looking  at  the  map  of  Iowa, 
had  to  be  reached  from  Wisconsin  by  crossing  the  Mis 
sissippi  at  Dubuque  and  then  fetching  across  the  prairie 
to  the  journey's  end ;  and  in  1855  a  traveler  making  that 
trip  naturally  fell  in  with  a  good  many  of  his  future 
neighbors  and  fellow-citizens  pressing  westward  with 
him  to  the  new  lands. 

Some  were  merely  hunting  country,  and  were  ready 
to  be  whiffled  off  toward  any  neck  of  the  woods  which 
might  be  puffed  up  by  a  wayside  acquaintance  as  igno 
rant  about  it  as  he.  Some  were  headed  toward  what  was 
called  "the  Fort  Dodge  country,"  which  was  anywhere 
west  of  the  Des  Moines  River.  Some  had  been  out  and 
made  locations  the  year  before  and  were  coming  on  with 
their  stuff;  some  were  joining  friends  already  on  the 
ground;  some  had  a  list  of  Gardens  of  Eden  in  mind, 
and  meant  to  look  them  over  one  after  the  other  until  a 
land  was  found  flowing  with  milk  and  honey,  and  in 
habited  by  roast  pigs  with  forks  sticking  in  their  backs 
and  carving  knives  between  their  teeth. 

Very  few  of  the  tillers  of  the  soil  had  farms  already 
marked  down,  bought  and  paid  for  as  I  had ;  and  I  some- 

114 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      115 

times  talked  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  that  I  was  a  little 
on  my  high  heels ;  but  they  were  freer  to  tack,  go  about, 
and  run  before  the  wind  than  I ;  for  some  one  was  sure 
to  stick  to  each  of  them  like  a  bur  and  steer  him  to  some 
definite  place,  where  he  could  squat  and  afterward  take 
advantage  of  the  right  of  preemption,  while  I  was  forced 
to  ferret  out  a  particular  square  mile  of  this  boundless 
prairie,  and  there  settle  down,  no  matter  how  far  it  might 
be  from  water,  neighbors,  timber  or  market;  and  fight 
out  my  battle  just  as  things  might  happen.  If  the  wo 
man  in  the  wagon  was  "scared  to  death"  at  the  sight  of 
the  prairie,  I  surely  had  cause  to  be  afraid;  but  I  was 
not.  I  was  uplifted.  I  felt  the  same  sense  of  freedom, 
and  the  greatness  of  things,  that  came  over  me  when  I 
first  found  myself  able  to  take  in  a  real  eyeful  in  driving 
my  canal-boat  through  the  Montezuma  Marsh,  or  when 
I  first  saw  big  waters  at  Buffalo.  I  was  made  for  the 
open,  I  guess. 

There  were  wagon  trails  in  every  westerly  direction 
from  all  the  Mississippi  ferries  and  landings;  and  the 
roads  branched  from  Dubuque  southwestward  to  Marion, 
and  on  to  the  Mormon  trail,  and  northwestward  toward 
Elkader  and  West  Union ;  but  I  had  to  follow  the  Old 
Ridge  Road  west  through  Dubuque,  Delaware,  Buchanan 
and  Blackhawk  Counties,  and  westward.  It  was  called 
the  Ridge  Road  because  it  followed  the  knolls  and  hog 
backs,  and  thus,  as  far  as  might  be,  kept  out  of  the  slews. 

The  last  bit  of  it  so  far  as  I  know  was  plowed  up  in 
1877  in  the  northeastern  part  of  Grundy  County.  I  saw 
this  last  mile  of  the  old  road  on  a  trip  I  made  to  Water 
loo,  and  remember  it.  This  part  of  it  had  been  estab 
lished  by  a  couple  of  Hardin  County  pioneers  who  got 


n6  VANDEM ARK'S  FOLLY 

lost  in  the  forty-mile  prairie  between  the  Iowa  and  Cedar 
Rivers  about  three  years  before  I  came  in  and  showed 
their  fitness  for  citizenship  by  filling  their  wagon  with 
stakes  on  the  way  back  and  driving  them  on  every  sightly 
place  as  guides  for  others — an  Iowa  Llano  Estacado  was 
Grundy  Prairie. 

This  last  bit  of  it  ran  across  a  school  section  that 
had  been  left  in  prairie  sod  till  then.  The  past  came 
rolling  back  upon  me  as  I  stopped  my  horses  and  looked 
at  it,  a  wonderful  road,  that  never  was  a  highway  in 
law,  curving  about  the  side  of  a  knoll,  the  comb  between 
the  tracks  carrying  its  plume  of  tall  spear  grass,  its 
barbed  shafts  just  ripe  for  boys  to  play  Indian  with, 
which  bent  over  the  two  tracks,  washed  deep  by  the 
rains,  and  blown  out  by  the  winds ;  and  where  the  trail 
had  crossed  a  wet  place,  the  grass  and  weeds  still  showed 
the  effects  of  the  plowing  and  puddling  of  the  thousands 
of  wheels  and  hoofs  which  had  poached  up  the  black  soil 
into  bubbly  mud  as  the  road  spread  out  into  a  bulb  of 
traffic  where  the  pioneering  drivers  sought  for  tough  sod 
which  would  bear  up  their  wheels.  A  plow  had  already 
begun  its  work  on  this  last  piece  of  the  Old  Ridge  Road, 
and  as  I  stood  there,  the  farmer  who  was  breaking  it  up 
came  by  with  his  big  plow  and  four  horses,  and  stopped 
to  talk  with  me. 

"What  made  that  old  road?"   I  asked. 

"Veil,"  said  he,  "dot's  more  as  I  know.  Somebody,  I 
dank." 

And  yet,  the  history  of  Vandemark  Township  was  in 
that  old  road  that  he  complained  of  because  he  couldn't 
do  a  good  job  of  breaking  across  it — he  was  one  of  those 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      117 

German  settlers,  or  the  son  of  one,  who  invaded  the  state 
after  the  rest  of  us  had  opened  it  up. 

The  Old  Ridge  Road  went  through  Dyersville,  Man 
chester,  Independence,  Waterloo,  and  on  to  Fort  Dodge 
— but  beyond  there  both  the  road  and — so  far  as  I  know 
— the  country  itself,  was  a  vague  and  undefined  thing. 
So  also  was  the  road  itself  beyond  the  Iowa  River,  and 
for  that  matter  it  got  to  be  less  and  less  a  beaten  track  all 
the  way  as  the  wagons  spread  out  fanwise  to  the  various 
fords  and  ferries  and  as  the  movers  stopped  and  settled 
like  nesting  cranes.  Of  course  there  was  a  fringe  of 
well-established  settlements  a  hundred  miles  or  so 
beyond  Fort  Dodge,  of  people  who,  most  of  them,  came 
up  the  Missouri  River. 

Our  Iowa  wilderness  did  not  settle  up  in  any  uniform 
way,  but  was  inundated  as  a  field  is  overspread  by  a 
flood;  only  it  was  a  flood  which  set  up-stream.  First 
the  Mississippi  had  its  old  town,  away  off  south  of  Iowa, 
near  its  mouth ;  then  the  people  worked  up  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Missouri  and  made  another  town ;  then  the  human 
flood  crept  up  the  Mississippi  and  the  Missouri,  and 
Iowa  was  reached;  then  the  Iowa  valleys  were  occupied 
by  the  river  immigration,  and  the  tide  of  settlement  rose 
until  it  broke  over  the  hills  on  such  routes  as  the  Old 
Ridge  Road ;  but  these  cross-country  streams  here  and 
there  met  other  trickles  of  population  which  had  come  up 
the  belts  of  forest  on  the  streams.  I  was  steering  right 
into  the  wilderness ;  but  there  were  far  islands  of  occupa 
tion — the  heft  of  the  earliest  settlements  strongly  south 
ern  in  character — on  each  of  the  Iowa  streams  which  I 
was  to  cross,  snuggled  down  in  the  wooded  bottom  lands 
on  the  Missouri,  and  even  away  beyond  at  Salt  Lake,  and 


n8  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

farther  off  in  Oregon  and  California  where  the  folk- 
freshet  broke  on  the  Pacific — a  wave  of  humanity  dash 
ing  against  a  reef  of  water. 

Of  course,  I  knew  very  little  of  these  things  as  I  sat 
there,  ignorant  as  I  was,  looking  out  over  the  grassy  sea, 
in  my  prairie  schooner,  my  four  cows  panting  from  the 
climb,  and  with  the  yellow-haired  young  woman  beside 
me,  who  had  been  wished  on  me  by  the  black-bearded 
man  on  leaving  the  Illinois  shore.  Most  of  it  I  still  had 
to  spell  out  through  age  and  experience,  and  some  read 
ing.  I  only  knew  that  I  had  been  told  that  the  Ridge 
Road  would  take  me  to  Monterey  County,  if  the  weather 
wasn't  too  wet,  and  I  didn't  get  drowned  in  a  freshet  at  a 
ferry  or  slewed  down  and  permanently  stuck  fast  some 
where  with  all  my  goods. 

"Gee-up,"  I  shouted  to  my  cows,  and  cracked  my 
blacksnake  over  their  backs ;  and  they  strained  slowly 
into  the  yoke.  The  wagon  began  chuck-chucking  along 
into  the  unknown. 

"Stop!"  said  my  passenger.  "I've  got  to  wait  here 
for  my — for  my  husband." 

"I  can't  stop,"  said  I,  "till  I  get  to  timber  and  water." 

"But  I  must  wait,"  she  pleaded.  "He  can't  help  but 
find  us  here,  because  it's  the  only  way  to  come ;  but  if 
we  go  on  we  may  miss  him — and — and — I've  just  got  to 
stop.  Let  me  out,  if  you  won't  stop." 

I  whoaed  up  and  she  made  as  if  to  climb  out. 

"He  may  not  get  out  of  Dubuque  to-day,"  I  said. 
"He  said  so.  And  for  you  to  wait  here  alone,  with  all 
these  movers  going  by,  and  with  no  place  to  stay  to-night 
will  be  a  pretty  pokerish  thing  to  do." 

Finally  we  agreed  that  I  should  drive  on  to  water  and 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      119 

timber,  unless  the  road  should  fork;  in  which  case  we 
were  to  wait  at  the  forks  no  matter  what  sort  of  camp  it 
might  be. 

The  Ridge  Road  followed  pretty  closely  the  route 
afterward  taken  by  the  Illinois  Central  Railroad;  but  the 
railroad  takes  the  easiest  grades,  while  the  Ridge  Road 
kept  to  the  high  ground;  so  that  at  some  places  it  lay  a 
long  way  north  or  south  of  the  railway  route  on  which 
trains  were  running  as  far  as  Manchester  within  about 
two  years.  It  veered  off  toward  the  head  waters  of 
White  Water  Creek  on  that  first  day's  journey ;  and  near 
a  new  farm,  where  they  kept  a  tavern,  we  stopped  be 
cause  there  was  water  in  the  well,  and  hay  and  firewood 
for  sale.  It  was  still  early.  The  yellow-haired  woman, 
whose  name  I  did  not  know,  alighted,  and  when  I  found 
that  they  would  keep  her  for  the  night,  went  toward  the 
farm-house  without  thanking  me — but  she  was  too  much 
worried  about  something  to  think  of  that,  I  guess;  but 
she  turned  and  came  back. 

"Which  way  is  Monterey  Centre?"  she  asked. 

"Away  off  to  the  westward,"  I  answered. 

"Is  it  far?" 

"A  long  ways,"  I  said. 

"Is  it  on  this  awful  prairie?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "I  guess  it  is.  It's  farther  away  from 
timber  than  this  I  calculate." 

"My  lord,"  she  burst  out.  "I'll  simply  die  of  the 
horrors !" 

She  looked  over  the  trail  toward  Dubuque,  and  then 
slowly  went  into  the  house. 

So,  then,  these  two  with  all  their  strange  actions  were 


120  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

going  to  Monterey  County !  They  would  be  neighbors  of 
mine,  maybe ;  but  probably  not.  They  looked  like  town 
people;  and  I  knew  already  the  distance  that  separated 
farmers  from  the  dwellers  in  the  towns — a  difference 
that  as  I  read  history,  runs  away  back  through  all  the 
past.  They  were  far  removed  from  what  I  should  be — 
something  that  I  realized  more  and  more  all  through  my 
life — the  difference  between  those  who  live  on  the  farms 
and  those  who  live  on  the  farmers. 

There  was  a  two-seated  covered  carriage  standing 
before  the  house,  and  across  the  road  were  two  mover- 
wagons,  with  a  nice  camp-fire  blazing,  and  half  a  dozen 
men  and  women  and  a  lot  of  children  about  it  cooking  a 
meal  of  victuals.  I  pulled  over  near  them  and  turned  my 
cows  out,  tied  down  head  and  foot  so  they  could  bait  and 
not  stray  too  far.  I  noticed  that  their  cows,  which  were 
driven  after  the  wagon,  had  found  too  fast  for  them  the 
pace  set  by  the  horse  teams,  had  got  very  foot-sore,  and 
were  lying  down  and  not  feeding — for  I  drove  them  up 
to  see  what  was  the  matter  with  them. 


Before  starting-time  in  the  morning,  I  had  swapped 
two  of  my  driving  cows  for  four  of  their  lame  ones,  and 
hauled  up  by  the  side  of  the  road  until  I  could  break  my 
new  animals  to  the  yoke  and  allow  them  to  recuperate. 
I  am  a  cattleman  by  nature,  and  was  more  greedy  for 
stock  than  anxious  to  make  time — maybe  that's  another 
reason  for  being  called  Cow  Vandemark.  The  neighbors 
used  to  say  that  I  laid  the  foundation  of  my  present  com 
petence  by  trading  one  sound  cow  for  two  lame  ones 
every  few  miles  along  the  Ridge  Road,  coming  into  the 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      121 

state,  and  then  feeding  my  stock  on  speculators'  grass 
in  the  summer  and  straw  that  my  neighbors  would  other 
wise  have  burned  up  in  the  winter.  What  was  a  week's 
time  to  me  ?  I  had  a  lifetime  in  Iowa  before  me. 

"Whose  rig  is  that  ?"  I  asked,  pointing  to  the  carriage. 

"Belongs  to  a  man  name  of  Gowdy,"  the  mover  told 
me.  "Got  a  hell-slew  of  wuthless  land  in  Monterey 
County  an'  is  going  out  to  settle  on  it." 

"How  do  you  know  it's  worthless  ?"  I  inquired  pretty 
sharply;  for  a  man  must  stand  up  for  his  own  place 
whether  he's  ever  seen  it  or  not. 

"They  say  so,"  said  he. 

"Why?"  I  asked. 

"Out  in  the  middle  of  the  Monterey  Prairie,"  he  said. 
"You  can't  live  in  this  country  'less  you  settle  near  the 
timber." 

"Instead  of  stopping  at  this  farm,"  I  said,  "I  should 
think  he'd  have  gone  on  to  the  next  settlement.  Horses 
lame?" 

"Best  horses  I've  seen  on  the  road,"  was  the  answer. 
"Kentucky  horses.  Gowdy  comes  from  Kentucky. 
Stopped  because  his  wife  is  bad  sick." 

"Where's  he?"  I  asked. 

"Out  shooting  geese,"  said  he.  "Don't  seem  to  fret 
his  gizzard  about  his  \vife ;  but  they  say  she's  struck  with 
death." 

All  the  while  I  was  cooking  my  supper  I  was  thinking 
of  this  woman,  "struck  with  death,"  and  her  husband  out 
shooting  geese,  while  she  struggled  with  our  last  great 
antagonist  alone.  One  of  the  women  came  over  from  the 
other  camp  with  her  husband,  and  I  spoke  to  her  about  it. 

"This  man,"  said  she,  "jest  acts  out  what  all  the  men 


122  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

feel.  A  womern  is  nothing  but  a  thing  to  want  as  long 
as  she  is  young  and  can  work.  But  this  womern  hain't 
quite  alone.  She's  got  a  little  sister  with  her  that  knows 
a  hull  lot  better  how  to  do  for  her  than  any  darned  man 
would!" 

It  grew  dark  and  cold — a  keen,  still,  frosty  spring 
evening  which  filled  the  sky  with  stars  and  bespoke  a 
sunny  day  for  to-morrow,  with  settled  warmer  weather. 
The  geese  and  ducks  were  still  calling  from  the  sky,  and 
not  far  away  the  prairie  wolves  were  howling  about  one 
of  the  many  carcasses  of  dead  animals  which  the  stream 
of  immigration  had  already  dropped  by  the  wayside.  I 
was  dead  sleepy,  and  was  about  to  turn  in,  when  my 
black-bearded  man  last  seen  in  Dubuque  with  a  consta 
ble  holding  him  by  the  arm,  came  driving  up,  and  went 
about  among  the  various  wagons  as  if  looking  for  some 
thing.  I  knew  he  was  seeking  me,  and  spoke  to  him. 

"Oh !"  he  said,  as  if  all  at  once  easier  in  his  mind. 
"Where's  my " 

"She's  in  the  house,"  I  said;  "this  is  a  kind  of  a 
tavern." 

"Good !"  said  he.  "I'm  much  obliged  to  you.  Here's 
your  supplies.  I  had  to  buy  this  light  wagon  and  a  team 
of  horses  in  Dubuque,  and  it  took  a  little  time,  it  took  a 
little  time." 

I  now  noticed  that  he  had  a  way  of  repeating  his 
words,  and  giving  them  a  sort  of  friendly  note  as  if  he 
were  taking  you  into  his  confidence.  When  I  offered  to 
pay  him  for  the  supplies,  he  refused.  "I'm  in  debt  to 
you.  I  don't  remember  what  they  cost — got  them  with 
some  things  for  myself;  a  trifle,  a  trifle.  Glad  to  do 
more  for  you — no  trouble  at  all,  none  whatever." 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      123 

"Didn't  you  have  any  trouble  in  Dubuque?"  I  asked, 
thinking  of  the  man  who  had  threatened  to  shoot  him  in 
front  of  the  post-office,  and  how  the  black-bearded  man 
had  called  upon  the  bystanders  to  bear  witness  that  he 
was  about  to  shoot  in  self-defense.  He  gave  me  a  sharp 
look;  but  it  was  too  dark  to  make  it  worth  anything  to 
him. 

"No  trouble  at  all,"  he  said.     "What  d'ye  mean?" 

Before  I  could  answer  there  came  up  a  man  carrying 
a  shotgun  in  one  hand,  and  a  wild  goose  over  his  shoul 
der.  Following  him  was  a  darky  with  a  goose  over  each 
shoulder.  I  threw  some  dry  sticks  on  my  fire,  and  it 
flamed  up  showing  me  the  faces  of  the  group.  Buck- 
ner  Gowdy,  or  as  everybody  in  Monterey  County  always 
called  him,  Buck  Gowdy,  stood  before  us  smiling,  power 
ful,  six  feet  high,  but  so  big  of  shoulder  that  he  seemed 
a  little  stooped,  perfectly  at  ease,  behaving  as  if  he  had 
always  known  all  of  us.  He  wore  a  little  black  mustache 
which  curled  up  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth  like  the  tail 
feathers  of  a  drake.  His  clothes  were  soaked  and 
gaumed  up  with  mud  from  his  tramping  and  crawling 
through  the  marshes ;  but  otherwise  he  looked  as  fresh 
as  if  he  had  just  risen  from  his  bed,  while  the  negro 
seemed  ready  to  drop. 

When  Buck  Gowdy  spoke,  it  was  always  with  a  little 
laugh,  and  that  slight  stoop  toward  you  as  if  there  was 
something  between  him  and  you  that  was  a  sort  of  secret 
— the  kind  of  laugh  a  man  gives  who  has  had  many  a 
joke  with  you  and  depends  on  your  knowing  what  it  is 
that  pleases  him.  His  eyes  were  brown,  and  a  little  close 
together ;  and  his  head  was  covered  with  a  mass  of  wavy 
dark  hair.  His  voice  was  rich  and  deep,  and  pitched  low 


124  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

as  if  he  were  telling  you  something  he  did  not  want 
everybody  to  hear.  He  swore  constantly,  and  used 
nasty  language ;  but  he  had  a  way  with  him  which  I  have 
seen  him  use  to  ministers  of  the  gospel  without  their 
seeming  to  take  notice  of  the  improper  things  he  said. 
There  was  something  intimate  in  his  treatment  of  every 
one  he  spoke  to ;  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of  saying  things, 
especially  to  women,  that  had  all  sorts  of  double  mean 
ings — meanings  that  you  couldn't  take  offense  at  with 
out  putting  yourself  on  some  low  level  which  he  could 
always  vow  was  far  from  his  mind.  And  there  was  a 
vibration  in  his  low  voice  which  always  seemed  to  mean 
that  he  felt  much  more  than  he  said. 

"My  name's  Gowdy,"  he  said;  "all  you  people  going 
west  for  your  health  ?" 

"I,"  said  the  black-bearded  man,  "am  Doctor  Bliven ; 
and  I'm  going  west,  I'm  going  west,  not  only  for  my 
health,  but  for  that  of  the  community." 

"Glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  said  Gowdy ;  "and 
may  I  crave  the  acquaintance  of  our  young  Argonaut 
here?" 

"Let  me  present  Mr. — "  said  Doctor  Bliven,  "Mr. 

Mr. " 

"Vandemark,"  said  I. 

"Let  me  present  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  the  doctor, 
"a  very  obliging  young  man  to  whom  I  am  already  under 
many  obligations,  many  obligations." 

Buckner  Gowdy  took  my  hand,  bringing  his  body 
close  to  me,  and  looking  me  in  the  eyes  boldly  and  in  a 
way  which  was  quite  fascinating  to  me. 

"I  hope,  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  he,  "that  you  and 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      125 

Doctor  Bliven  are  going  to  settle  in  the  neighborhood 
to  which  I  am  exiled.  Where  are  you  two  bound  for  ?" 

"I  expect  to  open  a  drug  store  and  begin  the  practise 
of  medicine,"  said  the  doctor,  "at  the  thriving  town  of 
Monterey  Centre." 

"I've  got  some  land  in  Monterey  County,"  said  I; 
"but  I  don't  know  where  in  the  county  it  is." 

Doctor  Bliven  started ;  and  Buckner  Gowdy  shook 
my  hand  again,  and  then  the  doctor's. 

"A  sort  of  previous  neighborhood  reunion,"  said  he. 
"I  expect  one  of  these  days  to  be  one  of  the  old  resi- 
denters  of  Monterey  County  myself.  I  am  a  fellow-suf 
ferer  with  you,  Mr.  Vandemark — I  also  have  land  there. 
Won't  you  and  the  doctor  join  me  in  a  night-cap  in  honor 
of  our  neighborship ;  and  drink  to  better  acquaintance  ? 
And  let's  invite  our  fellow  wayfarers,  too.  I  have  some 
game  for  them." 

He  looked  across  to  the  other  camp,  and  we  went 
over  to  it,  Gowdy  giving  the  third  goose  and  the  gun  to 
the  negro  who  had  hard  work  to  manage  them.  I  had  a 
roadside  acquaintance  with  the  movers,  but  did  not  know 
their  names.  In  a  jiffy  Gowdy  had  all  of  them,  and 
had  found  out  that  they  expected  to  locate  near  Waverly. 
In  five  minutes  he  had  begun  discussing  with  a  pretty 
young  woman  the  best  way  to  cook  a  goose ;  and  soon 
wandered  away  with  her  on  some  pretense,  and  we  could 
hear  his  subdued,  vibratory  voice  and  low  laugh  from 
the  surrounding  darkness,  and  from  time  to  time  her 
nervous  giggle.  Suddenly  I  remembered  his  wife,  cer 
tainly  very  sick  in  the  house,  and  the  talk  that  she  was 
"struck  with  death" — and  he  out  shooting  geese,  and 
now  gallivanting  around  with  a  strange  girl  in  the  dark. 


126  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

There  must  be  some  mistake — this  man  with  the  bold 
eyes  and  the  warm  and  friendly  handclasp,  with  the  fas 
cinating  manners  and  the  neighborly  ideas,  could  not 
possibly  be  a  person  who  would  do  such  things.  But 
even  as  I  thought  this,  and  made  up  my  mind  that,  after 
all,  I  would  join  him  and  the  queer-behaving  doctor  in 
a  friendly  drink,  a  woman  came  flying  out  of  the  house 
and  across  the  road,  calling  out,  asking  if  any  one  knew 
where  Mr.  Gowdy  was,  that  his  wife  was  dying. 

He  and  the  girl  came  to  the  fire  quickly,  and  as  they 
came  into  view  I  saw  a  movement  of  his  arm  as  if  he  was 
taking  it  from  around  her  waist. 

"I'm  here,"  said  he — and  his  voice  sounded  harder, 
somehow.  "What's  the  matter?" 

"Your  wife,"  said  the  woman,  " — she's  taken  very 
bad,  Mr.  Gowdy." 

He  started  toward  the  house  without  a  word ;  but  be 
fore  he  went  out  of  sight  he  turned  and  looked  for  a 
moment  with  a  sort  of  half-smile  at  the  girl.  For  a  while 
we  were  all  as  still  as  death.  Finally  Doctor  Bliven  re 
marked  that  lots  of  folks  were  foolish  about  sick  people, 
and  that  more  patients  were  scared  to  death  by  those 
about  them  than  died  of  disease.  The  girl  said  that  that 
certainly  was  so.  Doctor  Bliven  then  volunteered  the 
assertion  that  Mr.  Gowdy  seemed  to  be  a  fine  fellow,  and 
a  gentleman  if  he  ever  saw  one.  Just  then  the  woman 
came  from  across  the  road  again  and  asked  for  "the  man 
who  was  a  doctor." 

"I'm  a  doctor,"  said  Bliven.    "Somebody  wants  me?" 

She  said  that  Mr.  Gowdy  would  like  to  have  him 
come  into  the  house — and  he  went  hurriedly,  after  tak 
ing  a  medicine-case  from  his  democrat  wagon.  I  saw  my 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      127 

yellow-haired  passenger  of  the  Dubuque  ferry  meet  him 
before  the  door,  throw  her  arms  about  him  and  kiss  him. 
He  returned  her  greeting,  and  they  went  through  the 
door  together  into  the  house. 


I  turned  in,  and  slept  several  hours  very  soundly,  and 
then  suddenly  found  myself  wide  awake.  I  got  up,  and 
as  I  did  almost  every  night,  went  out  to  look  after  my 
cattle.  I  found  all  but  one  of  them,  and  fetched  a  com 
pass  about  the  barns  and  stables,  searching  until  I  found 
her.  As  I  passed  in  front  of  the  door  I  heard  meanings 
and  cry  ings  from  a  bench  against  the  side  of  the  house, 
and  stopped.  It  was  dawn,  and  I  could  see  that  it  was 
either  a  small  woman  or  a  large  child,  huddled  down  on 
the  bench  crying  terribly,  with  those  peculiar  wrenching 
spasms  that  come  only  when  you  have  struggled  long,  and 
then  quite  given  up  to  misery.  I  went  toward  her,  then 
stepped  back,  then  drew  closer,  trying  to  decide  whether 
I  should  go  away  and  leave  her,  or  speak  to  her ;  and  ar 
guing  with  myself  as  to  what  I  could  possibly  say  to  her. 
She  seemed  to  be  trying  to  choke  down  her  weeping, 
burying  her  head  in  her  hands,  holding  back  her  sobs, 
wrestling  with  herself.  Finally  she  fell  forward  on  her 
face  upon  the  bench,  her  hands  spread  abroad  and  hang 
ing  down,  her  face  on  the  hard  cold  wood — and  all  her 
moanings  ceased.  It  seemed  to  me  that  she  had  suddenly 
dropped  dead ;  for  I  could  not  hear  from  her  a  single 
sigh  or  gasp  or  breath,  though  I  stepped  closer  and  lis 
tened — not  a  sign  of  life  did  she  give.  So  I  put  my  arm 
under  her  and  raised  her  up,  only  to  see  that  her  face  was 
ghastly  white,  and  that  she  seemed  quite  dead.  I  picked 


128  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

her  up,  and  found  that,  though  she  was  slight  and  girl 
ish,  she  was  more  woman  than  child,  and  carried  her 
over  to  the  well  where  there  was  cold  water  in  the 
trough,  from  which  I  sprinkled  a  few  icy  drops  in  her 
face — and  she  gasped  and  looked  at  me  as  if  dazed. 

"You  fainted  away,"  I  said,  "and  I  brought  you  to." 

"I  wish  you  hadn't !"  she  cried.  "I  wish  you  had  let 
me  die!" 

"What's  the  matter,  little  girl?"  I  asked,  seating  her 
on  the  bench  once  more.  "Is  there  anything  I  can  do?" 

"Oh !  oh !  oh !  oh  !"  she  cried,  maybe  a  dozen  times — • 
and  nothing  more,  until  finally  she  burst  out:  "She  was 
all  I  had  in  the  world.  My  God,  what  will  become  of 
me !"  And  she  sprang  up,  and  would  have  run  off,  I 
believe,  if  Buckner  Gowdy  had  not  overtaken  her,  and 
coaxingly  led  her  back  into  the  house. 

We  come  now  into  a  new  state  of  things  in  the  his 
tory  of  Vandemark  Township. 

We  meet  not  only  the  things  that  made  it,  but  the 
actors  in  the  play. 

Buckner  Gowdy,  Doctor  Bliven,  their  associates,  and 
others  not  yet  mentioned  will  be  found  helping  to  make  or 
mar  the  story  all  through  the  future ;  for  an  Iowa  com 
munity  was  like  a  growing  child  in  this,  that  its  char 
acter  in  maturity  was  fixed  by  its  beginnings. 

I  know  communities  in  Iowa  that  went  into  evil  ways, 
and  were  blighted  through  the  poison  distilled  into  their 
veins  by  a  few  of  the  earliest  settlers ;  I  know  others  that 
began  with  a  few  strong,  honest,  thinking,  reading,  pray 
ing  families,  and  soon  began  sending  out  streams  of  good 
influence  which  had  a  strange  power  for  better  things; 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      129 

I  knew  other  settlements  in  which  there  was  a  feud  from 
the  beginning  between  the  bad  and  the  good ;  and  in 
some  of  them  the  blight  of  the  bad  finally  overwhelmed 
the  good,  while  in  others  the  forces  of  righteousness  at 
last  grappled  with  the  devil's  gang,  and,  sometimes  in 
violence,  redeemed  the  neighborhood  to  a  place  in  the 
light. 

In  one  of  these  classes  Monterey  County,  and  even 
Vandemark  Township,  took  its  place.  Buckner  Gowdy 
and  Doctor  Bliven,  the  little  girl  who  fainted  away  on 
the  wooden  bench  in  the  night,  and  the  yellow-haired  wo 
man  who  stole  a  ride  with  me  across  the  Dubuque  ferry 
had  their  part  in  the  building  up  of  our  great  community 
— and  others  worked  with  them,  some  for  the  good  and 
some  for  the  bad. 

Now  I  come  to  people  whose  histories  I  know  by 
the  absorption  of  a  lifetime's  experience.  I  know  that 
it  was  Mrs.  Bliven's  husband — we  always  called  her 
that,  of  course — who  expected  to  arrest  the  pair  of  them 
as  they  crossed  the  Dubuque  ferry ;  and  that  I  was  made 
a  cat's-paw  in  slipping  her  past  her  pursuers  and  saving 
Bliven  from  arrest.  I  know  that  Buckner  Gowdy  was 
a  wild  and  turbulent  rakehell  in  Kentucky  and  after  many 
bad  scrapes  was  forced  to  run  away  from  the  state,  and 
was  given  his  huge  plantation  of  "worthless"  land — as  he 
called  it — in  Iowa;  that  he  had  married  his  wife,  who 
was  a  poor  girl  of  good  family  named  Ann  Royall,  be 
cause  he  couldn't  get  her  except  by  marrying  her. 

I  know  that  her  younger  sister,  Virginia  Royall,  came 
with  them  to  Iowa,  because  she  had  no  other  relative  or 
friend  in  the  world  except  Mrs.  Gowdy.  I  pretty  nearly 
know  that  Virginia  would  have  killed  herself  that  night 
on  the  prairie  by  the  Old  Ridge  Road,  because  of  a 


130  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

den  feeling  of  terror,  at  the  situation  in  which  she  was 
left,  at  the  prairies  and  the  wild  desolate  road,  at  Buck 
Gowdy,  at  life  in  general — if  she  had  had  any  means 
with  which  to  destroy  her  life.  I  know  that  Buck 
Gowdy  took  her  into  the  house  and  comforted  her  by 
telling  her  that  he  would  care  for  her,  and  send  her  back 
to  Kentucky. 

A  funeral  by  the  wayside !  This  was  my  first  experi 
ence  with  a  kind  of  tragedy  which  was  not  quite  so  com 
mon  as  you  might  think.  Buckner  Gowdy  instead  of  giv 
ing  his  wife  a  grave  by  the  road,  as  many  did,  sent  the 
man  of  the  house  back  to  Dubuque  for  a  hearse,  the 
women  laid  out  the  corpse,  and  after  a  whole  day  of 
waiting,  the  hearse  came,  and  went  back  over  the  road 
down  the  Indian  trail  through  the  bluffs  to  some  grave 
yard  in  the  old  town  by  the  river.  Virginia  Royall  sat 
in  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage  with  Buckner  Gowdy, 
and  the  darky,  Pinckney  Johnson — we  all  knew  him  af 
terward — drove  solemnly  along  wearing  white  gloves 
which  he  had  found  somewhere.  Virginia  shrank  away 
over  to  her  own  side  of  the  seat  as  if  trying  to  get  as  far 
from  Buckner  Gowdy  as  possible. 

The  movers  moved  on,  leaving  me  four  of  their  cows 
instead  of  two  of  mine,  and  I  went  diligently  to  work 
breaking  them  to  the  yoke.  New  prairie  schooners  came 
all  the  time  into  view  from  the  East,  and  others  went 
over  the  sky-line  into  the  West. 


And  that  day  the  Fewkes  family  hove  into  sight  in  a 
light  democrat  wagon  drawn  by  a  good-sized  apology 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      131 

for  a  horse,  poor  as  a  crow,  and  carrying  sail  in  the  most 
ferocious  way  of  any  beast  I  ever  saw.  He  had  had  a 
bad  case  of  poll-evil  and  his  head  was  poked  forward  as 
if  he  was  just  about  to  bite  something,  and  his  ears  were 
leered  back  tight  to  his  head  with  an  expression  of  the 
most  terrible  anger — I  have  known  people  who  went 
through  the  world  in  a  good  deal  the  same  way  for  much 
the  same  reasons. 

Old  Man  Fewkes  was  driving,  and  sitting  by  him  was 
Mrs.  Fewkes  in  a  faded  calico  dress,  her  shoulders 
wrapped  in  what  was  left  of  a  shawl.  Fewkes  was  let 
ting  old  Tom  take  his  own  way,  which  he  did  by  rushing 
with  all  vengeance  through  every  bad  spot  and  then  stop 
ping  to  rest  as  soon  as  he  reached  a  good  bit  of  road. 
The  old  man  was  thin  and  light-boned,  with  a  high  beak 
of  a  nose  which  ought  to  have  indicated  strength  of  char 
acter,  I  suppose ;  but  the  other  feature  that  also  tells  a 
good  deal,  the  chin,  was  hidden  by  a  gray  beard  which 
hung  in  long  curving  locks  over  his  breast  and  saved  him 
the  expense  of  a  collar  or  cravat.  His  hands  were  like 
claws — I  never  saw  such  hands  doing  much  of  the  hard 
work  of  the  world — and,  like  his  face,  were  covered  with 
great  patches  which,  if  they  had  not  been  so  big  would 
have  been  freckles.  His  wife  was  a  perfect  picture  of 
those  women  who  had  the  life  drailed  out  of  them 
by  a  yielding  to  the  whiffling  winds  of  influence  that 
carried  the  dead  leaves  of  humanity  hither  and  yon  in 
the  advance  of  the  frontier.  She  sat  stooped  over  on 
the  stiff  broad  seat,  with  her  shoulders  drawn  down  as 
no  shoulders  but  hers  could  be  drawn.  It  was  her  one 
outstanding  point  that  she  had  no  collar-bones.  Tt 
doesn't  seem  possible  that  this  could  be  so ;  but  she  could 


132  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

bring  her  shoulders  together  in  front  until  they  touched. 
She  was  rather  proud  of  this — I  suppose  every  one  must 
have  something  to  be  proud  of. 

I  guess  the  old  man's  chin  must  have  been  pretty 
weak ;  for  the  boys,  who  were  seated  on  the  back  seat, 
both  had  high  noses  and  no  chins  to  speak  of.  The  old 
est  was  over  twenty,  I  suppose,  and  was  named  Cele 
brate.  His  mother  explained  to  me  that  he  was  born  on 
the  Fourth  of  July,  and  they  called  him  at  first  Celebrate 
Independence  Fewkes ;  but  finally  changed  it  to  Cele 
brate  Fourth — I  am  telling  you  this  so  as  to  give  you 
an  idea  as  to  what  sort  of  folks  they  were.  Celebrate 
was  tall  and  well-built,  and  could  be  a  good  hand  if  he 
tried ;  which  he  would  do  once  in  a  while  for  half  a  day 
or  so  if  flattered.  The  second  son  was  named  Sura j  ah 
Dowlah  Fewkes — the  name  was  pronounced  Surrager 
by  everybody.  Old  Man  Fewkes  said  they  named  him 
this  because  a  well-read  man  had  told  them  it  might 
give  him  force  of  character;  but  it  failed.  He  was  a 
harmless  little  chap,  and  there  was  nothing  bad  about 
him  except  that  he  was  addicted  to  inventions.  When 
they  came  into  camp  that  day  he  was  explaining  to 
Celebrate  a  plan  for  catching  wild  geese  with  fish-hooks 
baited  with  corn,  and  that  evening  came  to  me  to  see  if 
he  couldn't  borrow  a  long  fish-line. 

"I  can  ketch  meat  for  a  dozen  outfits  with  it,"  he  said, 
"if  I  can  borrow  a  fish-hook." 

Walking  along  behind  the  wagon  came  the  fifth 
member  of  the  family,  Rowena,  a  girl  of  seventeen.  She 
went  several  rods  behind  the  wagon,  and  as  they  rushed 
and  plodded  along  according  to  old  Tom's  temper,  I 
noticed  that  she  rambled  over  the  prairie  a  good  deal 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      133 

picking  flowers;  and  you  would  hardly  have  thought  to 
look  at  her  that  she  belonged  to  the  Fewkes  outfit  at  all. 
I  guess  that  was  the  way  she  wanted  it  to  look.  She  was 
as  vigorous  as  the  others  were  limpsey  and  boneless ;  and 
there  was  in  her  something  akin  to  the  golden  plovers 
that  were  running  in  hundreds  that  morning  over  the 
prairies — I  haven't  seen  one  for  twenty-five  years !  That 
is,  she  skimmed  over  the  little  knolls  rather  than  walked, 
as  if  made  of  something  lighter  than  ordinary  human 
clay.  Her  dress  was  ragged,  faded,  and  showed  through 
the  tears  in  it  a  tattered  quilted  petticoat,  and  she  wore 
no  bonnet  or  hat ;  but  carried  in  her  hand  a  boy's  cap — 
which,  according  to  the  notions  harbored  by  us  then,  it 
would  have  been  immodest  for  her  to  wear.  Her  hair 
was  brown  and  blown  all  about  her  head,  and  her  face 
was  tanned  to  a  rich  brown — a  very  bad  complexion  then, 
but  just  the  thing  the  society  girl  of  to-day  likes  to  show 
when  she  returns  from  the  seashore. 

When  her  family  had  halted,  she  did  not  come  to 
them  at  once,  but  made  a  circuit  or  two  about  the  camp, 
like  a  shy  bird  coming  to  its  nest,  or  as  if  she  hated  to  do 
it ;  and  when  she  did  come  it  was  in  a  sort  of  defiant 
way,  swinging  herself  and  tossing  her  head,  and  looking 
at  every  one  as  bold  as  brass.  I  was  staring  at  the  as 
tonishing  horse,  the  queer  wagon,  and  the  whole  outfit 
with  more  curiosity  than  manners,  I  reckon,  when  she 
came  into  the  circle,  and  caught  my  unmannerly  eye. 

"Well,"  she  said,  her  face  reddening  under  the  tan, 
"if  you  see  anything  green  throw  your  hat  at  it!  Sellin' 
gawp-seed,  or  what  is  your  business?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  "I  meant  no  offense,"  and  even 
"Excuse  me"  were  things  I  had  never  learned  to  say.  I 


134  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

had  learned  to  fight  any  one  who  took  offense  at  me; 
and  if  they  didn't  like  my  style  they  could  lump  it — such 
was  my  code  of  manners,  and  the  code  of  my  class.  To 
beg  pardon  was  to  knuckle  under — and  it  took  something 
more  than  I  was  master  of  in  the  way  of  putting  on  style 
to  ask  to  be  excused,  even  if  the  element  of  back-down 
were  eliminated.  Remember,  I  had  been  "educated"  on 
the  canal.  So  I  tried  to  look  her  out  of  countenance, 
grew  red,  retreated,  and  went  about  some  sort  of  need 
less  work  without  a  word — completely  defeated.  I 
thought  she  seemed  rather  to  like  this ;  and  that  evening 
I  went  over  and  offered  Mrs.  Fewkes  some  butter  and 
milk,  of  which  I  had  a  plenty. 

I  was  soon  on  good  terms  with  the  Fewkes  family. 
Old  Man  Fewkes  told  me  he  was  going  to  Negosha — a 
region  of  which  I  had  never  heard.  It  was  away  off  to 
the  westward,  he  said;  and  years  afterward  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  the  name  was  made  up  of  the  two  words 
Nebraska  and  Dakota — not  very  well  joined  together. 
Mrs.  Fewkes  was  not  strong  for  Negosha ;  and  when 
Fewkes  offered  to  go  to  Texas,  she  objected  because  it 
was  so  far. 

"Why,"  said  the  old  man  indignantly,  "it  hain't  only 
a  matter  of  fifteen  hundred  mile !  An'  the  trees  is  in 
constant  varder!" 

He  still  harped  on  Negosha,  though,  and  during  the 
evening  while  we  were  fattening  up  on  my  bread  and 
meat,  which  I  had  on  a  broad  hint  added  to  our  meal,  he 
told  me  that  what  he  really  wanted  was  an  estate  where 
he  could  have  an  artificial  lake  and  keep  some  deer  and 
plenty  of  ducks  and  geese.  Swans,  too,  he  said  could  be 
raised  at  a  profit,  and  sold  to  other  well-to-do  people. 


ADVENTURE  ON  THE  RIDGE  ROAD      135 

He  said  that  by  good  farming  he  could  get  along  with 
only  a  few  hundred  acres  of  plow  land.  Mrs.  Fewkes 
grew  more  indulgent  to  these  ideas  as  the  food  satisfied 
her  hungry  stomach.  Celebrate  believed  that  if  he  could 
once  get  out  among  'em  he  could  do  well  as  a  hunter  and 
trapper;  while  Sura j ah  kept  listening  to  the  honking  of 
the  wild  geese  and  planning  to  catch  enough  of  them  with 
baited  hooks  to  feed  the  whole  family  all  the  way  to 
Negosha,  and  provide  plenty  of  money  by  selling  the 
surplus  to  the  emigrants.  Rowena  sat  in  her  ragged 
dress,  her  burst  shoes  drawn  in  under  her  skirt,  looking 
at  her  family  with  an  expression  of  unconcealed  scorn. 
When  she  got  a  chance  to  speak  to  me,  she  did  so  in  a 
very  friendly  manner. 

"Did  you  ever  see,"  said  she,  "such  a  set  of  darned 
infarnal  fools  as  we  are?" 

Before  the  evening  was  over,  however,  and  she  had 
hidden  herself  away  in  her  clothes  under  a  thin  and 
ragged  comforter  in  their  wagon,  she  had  joined  in  the 
discussion  of  their  castle  in  Spain  in  a  way  that  showed 
her  to  be  a  legitimate  Fewkes.  She  spoke  for  a  white 
saddle  horse,  a  beautiful  side-saddle,  a  long  blue  riding- 
habit  with  shot  in  the  seam,  and  a  man  to  keep  the  horse 
in  order.  She  wanted  to  be  able  to  rub  the  horse  with  a 
white  silk  handkerchief  without  soiling  it.  Ah,  well! 
dreams  hovered  over  all  our  camps  then.  The  howling 
of  the  wolves  couldn't  drive  them  away.  Poor  Rowena ! 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MY  LOAD  RECEIVES  AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION 

1  STILL  had  some  corn  for  my  cattle,  of  the  original 
supply  which  I  had  got  from  Rucker  in  Madison. 
Hay  was  fifteen  dollars  a  ton,  and  all  it  cost  the  producer 
was  a  year's  foresight  and  the  labor  of  putting  it  up ;  for 
there  were  millions  of  acres  of  wild  grass  going  to  waste 
which  made  the  sweet-smelling  hay  that  old  horsemen 
still  prefer  to  tame  hay.  It  hadn't  quite  the  feeding  value, 
pound  for  pound,  that  the  best  timothy  and  clover  has; 
but  it  was  a  wonderful  hay  that  could  be  put  up  in  the 
clear  weather  of  the  fall  when  the  ground  is  dry  and 
warm,  and  cured  so  as  to  be  free  from  dust.  My  teams 
never  got  the  heaves  when  I  fed  prairie  hay.  It  graveled 
me  like  sixty  to  pay  such  a  price,  but  I  had  to  do  it 
because  the  season  was  just  between  hay  and  grass. 
Sometimes  I  thought  of  waiting  over  until  the  summer  of 
1856  to  make  hay  for  sale  to  the  movers  ;  but  having  made 
my  start  for  my  farm  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  give  up 
reaching  it  that  spring.  So  I  only  waited  occasionally  to 
break  in  or  rest  up  the  foot-sore  and  lame  cattle  for  which 
I  traded  from  time  to  time. 

The  Fewkes  family  went  on  after  I  had  given  them 
some  butter,  some  side  pork  and  a  milking  of  milk.  While 
I  was  baking  pancakes  that  last  morning,  Rowena  came 
to  my  fire,  and  snatching  the  spider  away  from  me  took 

136 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION          137 

the  job  off  my  hands,  baking  the  cakes  while  I  ate.  She 
was  a  pretty  girl,  slim  and  well  developed,  and  she  had  a 
fetching  way  with  her  eyes  after  friendly  relations  were 
established  with  her — which  was  pretty  hard  because  she 
seemed  to  feel  that  every  one  looked  down  on  her,  and 
was  quick  to  take  offense. 

"Got  any  saleratus?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  said  I.    "Why?" 

She  stepped  over  to  the  Fewkes  wagon  and  brought 
back  a  small  packet  of  saleratus,  a  part  of  which  she 
stirred  into  the  batter. 

"It's  gettin'  warm  enough  so  your  milk'll  sour  on  you," 
said  she.  "This  did.  Don't  you  know  enough  to  use 
saleratus  to  sweeten  the  sour  milk  ?  You  better  keep  this 
an'  buy  some  at  the  next  store." 

"I  wish  I  had  somebody  along  that  could  cook,"  said 
I. 

"Can't  you  cook?"  she  asked.    "I  can." 

I  told  her,  then,  all  about  my  experience  on  the  canal ; 
and  how  we  used  to  carry  a  cook  on  the  boat  sometimes, 
and  sometimes  cooked  for  ourselves.  I  induced  her  to 
sit  by  me  on  the  spring  seat  which  I  had  set  down  on  the 
ground,  and  join  me  in  my  meal  while  I  told  her  of  my 
adventures.  She  seemed  to  forget  her  ragged  and 
unwashed  dress,  while  she  listened  to  the  story  of  my 
voyages  from  Buffalo  to  Albany,  and  my  side  trips  to 
such  places  as  Oswego.  This  canal  life  seemed  power 
fully  thrilling  to  the  poor  girl.  She  could  only  tell  of 
living  a  year  or  so  at  a  time  on  some  run-down  or  never 
run-up  farm  in  Indiana  or  Illinois,  always  in  a  log  cabin 
in  a  clearing ;  or  of  her  brothers  and  sisters  who  had  been 


138  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"bound  out"  because  the  family  was  so  large ;  and  now  of 
this  last  voyage  in  search  of  an  estate  in  Negosha. 

"I  can  make  bread,"  said  she,  after  a  silence.  "Kin 
you?" 

When  I  told  her  I  couldn't  she  told  me  how.  It  was 
the  old-fashioned  salt-rising  bread,  the  receipt  for  which 
she  gave  me ;  and  when  I  asked  her  to  write  it  down  I 
found  that  she  was  even  a  poorer  scribe  than  I  was.  We 
were  two  mighty  ignorant  young  folks,  but  we  got  it 
down,  and  that  night  I  set  emptins*  for  the  first  time,  and 
I  kept  trying,  and  advising  with  the  women-folks,  until  I 
could  make  as  good  salt-rising  bread  as  any  one.  When 
we  had  finished  this  her  father  was  calling  her  to  come, 
as  they  were  starting  on  toward  Negosha;  and  I  gave 
Rowena  money  enough  to  buy  her  a  calico  dress  pattern 
at  the  next  settlement.  She  tried  to  resist,  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears  as  she  took  the  money  and  chokingly 
tried  to  thank  me  for  it.  She  climbed  into  the  wagon  and 
rode  on  for  a  while,  but  got  out  and  came  back  to  me 
while  old  Tom  went  on  in  those  mad  rushes  of  his,  and 
circling  within  a  few  yards  of  me  she  said,  "You're  right 
good,"  and  darted  off  over  the  prairie  at  a  wide  angle  to 
the  road. 

I  watched  her  with  a  buying  eye,  as  she  circled 
like  a  pointer  pup  and  finally  caught  up  with  the  wagon, 
a  full  mile  on  to  the  westward.  I  had  wondered  once  if 


*Our  author  resists  firmly  all  arguments  in  favor  of  the 
generally  accepted  dictionary  spelling,  "emptyings."  He  says 
that  the  term  can  not  possibly  come  from  any  such  idea  as  things 
which  are  emptied,  or  emptied  out.  The  editor  is  reconciled  to 
this  view  in  the  light  of  James  Russell  Lowell's  discussion  of 
"emptins"  in  which  he  says :  "Nor  can  I  divine  the  original." 
Mr.  Lowell  surely  must  have  considered  "emptyings" — and  re 
jected  it.— G.  v.  d.  M, 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  139 

she  had  not  deserted  the  Fewkes  party  forever.  I  had 
even,  such  is  the  imagination  of  boyhood,  made  plans  and 
lived  them  through  in  my  mind,  which  put  Rowena  on  the 
nigh  end  of  the  spring  seat,  and  made  her  a  partner  with 
me  in  opening  up  the  new  farm.  But  she  waved  her  hand 
as  she  joined  her  family — or  I  thought  so  at  least,  and 
waved  back — and  was  gone. 

The  Gowdy  outfit  did  not  return  until  after  I  had 
about  cured  the  lameness  of  my  newly-acquired  cows  and 
set  out  on  my  way  over  the  Old  Ridge  Road  for  the  West. 
The  spring  was  by  this  time  broadening  into  the  loveliest 
of  all  times  on  the  prairies  (when  the  weather  is  fine), 
the  days  of  the  full  blowth  of  the  upland  bird's-foot 
violets.  Some  southern  slopes  were  so  blue  with  them 
that  you  could  hardly  tell  the  distant  hill  from  the  sky, 
except  for  the  greening  of  the  peeping  grass.  The  poss- 
blummies  were  still  blowing,  but  only  the  later  ones.  The 
others  were  aging  into  tassels  of  down. 

The  Canada  geese,  except  for  the  nesters,  had  swept 
on  in  that  marvelous  ranked  army  which  ends  the  migra 
tion,  spreading  from  the  east  to  the  west  some  warm 
morning  when  the  wind  is  south,  and  extending  from  a 
hundred  feet  in  the  air  to  ten  thousand,  all  moved  by  a 
common  impulse  like  myself  and  my  fellow-migrants, 
pressing  northward  though,  instead  of  westward,  with  the 
piping  of  a  thousand  organs,  their  wings  whirring,  their 
eyes  glistening  as  if  with  some  mysterious  hope,  their 
black  webbed  feet  folded  and  stretched  out  behind,  their 
necks  strained  out  eagerly  to  the  north,  and  held  a  little 
high  I  thought  as  if  to  peer  over  the  horizon  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  their  promised  land  of  blue  lakes,  tall  reeds, 
and  broad  fields  of  water-celery  and  wild  rice,  with 


140  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

nests  downy  with  the  harvests  of  their  gray  breasts ;  and 
fluffy  goslings  swimming  in  orderly  classes  after  their 
teachers.  And  up  from  the  South  following  these  old 
honkers  came  the  snow  geese,  the  Wilson  geese,  and  all 
the  other  little  geese  (we  ignorantly  called  all  of  them 
"brants"),  with  their  wild  f lutings  like  the  high  notes  of 
clarinets — and  the  ponds  became  speckled  with  teal  and 
coot. 

The  prairie  chickens  now  became  the  musicians  of 
the  morning  and  evening  on  the  uplands,  with  their  wild 
and  intense  and  almost  insane  chorus,  repeated  over  and 
over  until  it  seemed  as  if  the  meaning  of  it  must  be  forced 
upon  every  mind  like  a  figure  in  music  played  with  great- 
ening  power  by  a  violinist  so  that  the  heart  finally  almost 
breaks  with  it — "Ka-a-a-a-a-a,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka!  Ka-a-a-a- 
a-a-a,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka!  KA-A-A-A-A-A-A,  ka, 
ka,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka,  ka !" — Oh,  there  is  no  way  to  tell  it ! 
— And  then  the  cock  filled  in  the  harmony  with  his  love 
ly  contribution:  facing  the  courted  hen,  he  swelled  out 
the  great  orange  globes  at  the  sides  of  his  head,  fluffed 
out  his  feathers,  strutted  forward  a  few  steps,  and  tolled 
his  deep-toned  bell,  with  all  the  skill  of  a  ventriloquist, 
making  it  seem  far  away  when  he  was  on  a  near-by  knoll, 
like  a  velvet  gong  sounded  with  no  stroke  of  the  hammer, 
as  if  it  spoke  from  some  inward  vibration  set  up  by  a  mys 
terious  current — a  liquid  "Do,  re,  me,"  here  full  and  dis 
tinct,  there  afar  off,  the  whole  air  tremulous  with  it,  the 
harmony  to  the  ceaseless  fugue  in  the  soprano  clef  of  the 
rest  of  the  flock — nobody  will  ever  hear  it  again !  Nobody 
ever  drew  from  it,  and  from  the  howling  of  the  wolves, 
the  honking  of  the  geese,  the  calls  of  the  ducks,  the 
Strange  cries  of  the  cranes  as  they  soared  with  motionless 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  141 

wings  high  overhead,  or  rowed  their  way  on  with  long 
slow  strokes  of  their  great  wings,  or  danced  their  strange 
reels  and  cotillions  in  the  twilight ;  and  from  the  myriad 
voices  of  curlew,  plover,  gopher,  bob-o-link,  meadow- 
lark,  dick-cissel,  killdeer  and  the  rest — day-sounds  and 
night-sounds,  dawn-sounds  and  dusk-sounds — more  in 
spiration  than  did  the  stolid  Dutch  boy  plodding  west 
across  Iowa  that  spring  of  1855,  with  his  fortune  in  his 
teams  of  cows,  in  the  covered  wagon  they  drew,  and  the 
deed  to  his  farm  in  a  flat  packet  of  treasures  in  a  little 
iron-bound  trunk — among  them  a  rain-stained  letter  and 
a  worn-out  woman's  shoe. 


I  got  the  saleratus  at  Dyersville,  and  just  as  I  came 
out  of  the  little  store  which  was,  as  I  remember  it,  the 
only  one  there,  I  saw  the  Gowdy  carriage  come  down  the 
short  street,  the  horses  making  an  effort  to  prance  under 
the  skilful  management  of  Pinck  Johnson,  who  occupied 
the  front  seat  alone,  while  Virginia  Royall  sat  in  the 
back  seat  with  Buckner  Gowdy,  her  arm  about  the  upright 
of  the  cover,  her  left  foot  over  the  side  as  it  might  be  in 
case  of  a  person  who  was  ready  to  jump  out  to  escape 
the  danger  of  a  runaway,  an  overturn,  or  some  other  peril. 

Gowdy  did  not  recognize  me,  or  if  he  did  he  did  not 
speak  to  me.  He  got  out  of  the  carriage  and  went  first 
into  the  store,  coming  out  presently  with  some  packages 
in  his  hand  which  he  tossed  to  the  darky,  and  then  he 
joined  the  crowd  of  men  in  front  of  the  saloon  across  the 
way.  Soon  I  saw  him  go  into  the  gin-mill,  the  crowd  fol 
lowing  him,  and  the  noise  of  voices  grew  louder.  I  had 
had  enough  experience  with  such  things  to  know  pretty 


142  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

well  what  was  going  on ;  the  stink  of  spilled  drinks,  and 
profanity  and  indecency — there  was  nothing  in  them  to 
toll  me  in  from  the  flowery  prairie. 

As  I  passed  the  carriage  Virginia  nodded  to  me ;  and 
looking  at  her  I  saw  that  she  was  pale  and  tremulous, 
with  a  look  in  her  eyes  like  that  of  a  crazy  man  I  once 
knew  who  imagined  that  he  was  being  followed  by  ene 
mies  who  meant  to  kill  him.  There  is  no  word  for  it  but 
a  hunted  look. 

She  came  to  my  wagon,  pretty  soon,  and  surprised  me 
by  touching  my  arm  as  I  was  about  to  start  on  so  as  to 
make  a  few  more  miles  before  camping.  I  had  got  my 
team  straightened  out,  and  ready  to  start,  when  I  felt  her 
hand  on  my  arm,  and  on  turning  saw  her  standing  close 
to  me,  and  speaking  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"Do  you  know  any  one,"  she  asked,  "good  people — 
along  the  road  ahead' — people  we'll  overtake — that  would 
be  friends  to  a  girl  that  needs  help?" 

"Be  friends,"  I  blundered,  "be  friends?  How  be 
friends?" 

"Give  her  work,"  she  said ;  "take  her  in ;  take  care  of 
her.  This  girl  needs  friends — other  girls — women — 
some  one  to  take  the  place  of  a  mother  and  sisters.  Yes, 
and  she  needs  friends  to  take  the  place  of  a  father  and 
brothers.  A  girl  needs  friends — friends  all  the  time — as 
you  were  to  me  back  there  in  the  night." 

I  wondered  if  she  meant  herself;  and  after  thinking 
over  it  for  two  or  three  days  I  made  up  my  mind  that  she 
did ;  and  then  I  was  provoked  at  myself  for  not  under 
standing:  but  what  could  I  have  done  or  said  if  I  had 
understood?  I  remembered,  though,  how  she  hac 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  143 

skithered*  back  to  the  carriage  as  she  saw  Pinck  Johnson 
coming  out  of  the  saloon  with  Buck  Gowdy ;  and  had  then 
clambered  out  again  and  gone  into  the  little  hotel  where 
they  seemed  to  have  decided  to  stay  all  night;  while  I 
went  on  over  roads  which  were  getting  more  and  more 
miry  as  I  went  west.  I  had  only  been  able  to  tell  her  of 
the  Fewkes  family — Old  Man  Fewkes,  with  his  bird's 
claws  and  a  beard  where  a  chin  should  have  been,  Surajah 
Dowlah  Fewkes  with  no  thought  except  for  silly  inven 
tions,  Celebrate  Fourth  Fewkes  with  no  ideas  at  all — 

"But  isn't  there  a  man  among  them  ?"  she  had  asked. 

"A  man !"  I  repeated. 

"A  man  that  knows  how  to  shoot  a  pistol,  or  use  a 
knife,"  she  explained ;  "and  who  would  shoot  or  stab  for 
a  weak  girl  with  nobody  to  take  care  of  her." 

I  shook  my  head.  Not  one  of  these  was  a  real  man 
in  the  Kentucky,  or  other  proper  sense :  and  Ma  Fewkes 
with  her  boneless  shoulders  was  not  one  of  those  women 
of  whom  I  had  seen  many  in  my  life,  who  could  be  more 
terrible  to  a  wrong-doer  than  an  army  with  bowie-knives. 

"There's  only  two  in  the  outfit,"  I  went  on,  "that 
have  got  any  sprawl  to  them ;  and  they  are  old  Tom  their 
bunged-up  horse,  and  Rowena  Fewkes." 

"Who  is  she  ?"  inquired  Virginia  Royall. 

"A  girl  about  your  age,"  said  I.  "She's  ragged  and 
dirty,  but  she  has  a  little  gumption." 

*A  family  word,  to  the  study  of  which  one  would  like  to 
direct  the  attention  of  the  philologists,  since  traces  of  it  are  found 
in  the  conversation  of  folk  of  unsophisticated  vocabulary  out 
side  the  Clan  van  de  Marck.  Doubtless  it  is  of  Yankee  origin, 
and  hence  old  English.  It  may,  of  course,  be  derived  accord 
ing  to  Alice-in-Wonderland  principles  from  "skip"  and 
hither  or  "thither"  or  all  three;  but  the  claim  is  here  made 
that  it  comes,  like  monkeys  and  men,  from  a  common  linguistic 
ancestor. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


144  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

And  then  she  had  skipped  away,  as  I  finally  con 
cluded,  to  keep  Gowdy  from  seeing  her  in  conversation 
with  me. 

3 

I  pulled  out  for  Manchester  with  Nathaniel  Vincent 
Creede,  whom  everybody  calls  just  "N.  V.,"  riding  in  the 
spring  seat  with  me,  and  his  carpet-bag  and  his  law  li 
brary  in  the  back  of  the  wagon. 

His  library  consisted  of  Blackstone's  Commentaries — I 
saw  them  in  his  present  library  in  Monterey  Centre  only 
yesterday — Chitty  on  Pleading,  the  Code  of  Iowa  of  1851, 
the  Session  Laws  of  the  state  so  far  as  it  had  any  session 
laws — a  few  thin  books  bound  in  yellow  and  pink 
boards.  Even  these  few  books  made  a  pretty  heavy 
bundle  for  a  man  to  carry  in  one  hand  while  he  lugged 
all  his  other  worldly  goods  in  the  other. 

"Books  are  damned  heavy,  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  he ; 
"law  books  are  particularly  heavy.  My  library  is  small ; 
but  there  is  an  adage  in  our  profession  which  warns  us  to 
beware  of  the  man  of  one  book.  He's  always  likely 
to  know  what's  in  the  damned  thing,  you  know,  Mr. 
Vandemark;  and  the  truth  being  a  seamless  web,  if  a 
lawyer  knows  all  about  the  law  in  one  book,  he's  prone  to 
make  a  hell  of  a  straight  guess  at  what's  in  the  rest  of 
'em.  Hence  beware  of  the  man  of  one  book.  I  may 
safely  lay  claim  to  being  that  man — in  a  figurative  way ; 
though  there  are  half  a  dozen  volumes  or  so  back  there — 
the  small  pedestal  on  which  I  stand  reaching  up  toward  a 
place  on  the  Supreme  Bench  of  the  United  States." 

He  had  had  a  drink  or  two  with  Buckner  Gowdy  back 
there  in  the  saloon,  and  this  had  taken  the  brakes  off  his 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION          145 

tongue — if  there  were  any  provided  in  his  temperament. 
So,  aside  from  Buck  Gowdy,  I  was  the  first  of  his  fellow- 
citizens  of  Monterey  County  to  become  acquainted  with 
N.  V.  Creede.  He  reminded  me  at  first  of  Lawyer  Jack- 
way  of  Madison,  the  guardian  ad  litem  who  had  sung 
the  song  that  still  recurred  to  me  occasionally — 

"Sold  again, 

And  got  the  tin, 

And  sucked  another  Dutchman  in !" 

But  N.  V.  looked  a  little  like  Jackway  from  the  fact  only 
that  he  wore  a  long  frock  coat,  originally  black,  a 
white  shirt,  and  a  black  cravat.  He  was  very  tall,  and 
very  erect,  even  while  carrying  those  books  and  that 
bag.  He  was  smooth-shaven,  and  was  the  first  man  I 
ever  saw  who  shaved  every  day,  and  could  do  the  trick 
without  a  looking-glass.  His  eyes  were  black  and  very 
piercing ;  and  his  voice  rolled  like  thunder  when  he  grew 
earnest — which  he  was  likely  to  do  whenever  he  spoke. 
He  would  begin  to  discuss  my  cows,  the  principles  of 
fanning,  the  sky,  the  birds  of  passage,  the  flowers,  the 
sucking  in  of  the  Dutchman — which  I  told  him  all  about 
before  we  had  gone  five  miles — the  mire-holes  in  the 
slews,  anything  at  all — and  rising  from  a  joke  or  a  flighty 
notion  which  he  earnestly  advocated,  he  would  lower  his 
voice  and  elevate  his  language  and  utter  a  little  gem  of  an 
oration.  After  which  he  would  be  still  and  solemn  for  a 
while — to  let  it  sink  in  I  thought. 

N.  V.  was  at  that  time  twenty-seven  years  old.  He 
came  from  Evansville,  Indiana,  by  the  Ohio  from  Evans- 
ville  to  St.  Louis,  and  thence  up  the  Mississippi.  From 


146  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Dubuque  he  had  partly  walked  and  partly  ridden  with 
people  who  were  willing  to  give  him  a  lift. 

"I  am  like  unto  the  Apostle  Peter,"  he  said  when  he 
asked  for  the  chance  to  ride  with  me,  "silver  and  gold 
have  I  none ;  but  such  as  I  have  I  give  unto  thee." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked;  for  it  is  just  as  well 
always  to  be  sure  beforehand  when  it  comes  to  pay — 
though,  of  course,  I  should  have  been  glad  to  have  him 
with  me  without  money  and  without  price. 

"In  the  golden  future  of  Iowa,"  he  said,  "you  will 
occasionally  want  legal  advice.  I  will  accept  transporta 
tion  in  your  very  safe,  but  undeniably  slow  equipage  as 
a  retainer." 

"Captain  Sproule  used  to  say,"  I  said,  "that  what  you 
pay  the  lawyer  is  the  least  of  the  matter  when  you  go  to 
law." 

"Wise  Captain  Sproule,"  replied  N.  V. ;  "and  my  rule 
shall  be  to  keep  my  first  client,  Mr.  Jacob  T.  Vandemark, 
out  of  the  courts ;  and  in  addition  to  my  prospective  legal 
services,  I  can  wield  the  goad-stick  and  manipulate  the 
blacksnake.  Moreover,  when  these  feet  of  mine  get  their 
blisters  healed,  I  can  help  drive  the  cattle;  and  I  can 
gather  firewood,  kindle  fires,  and  perhaps  I  may  suggest 
that  my  conversation  may  not  be  entirely  unprofitable." 

I  told  him  I  would  take  him  in  as  a  passenger;  and 
there  our  life-long  friendship  began.  His  conversation 
was  not  unprofitable.  He  had  the  vision  of  the  future  of 
Iowa  which  I  had  until  then  lacked.  He  could  see  on 
every  quarter-section  a  prosperous  farm,  and  he  knew 
what  the  building  of  the  railways  must  mean.  As  we 
forded  the  Maquoketa  he  laughed  at  the  settlers  working 
at  the  timber,  grubbing  out  stumps,  burning  off  the  logs, 
struggling  with  roots. 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  147 

"Your  ancestors,  the  Dutch,"  said  he,  "have  been  held 
tip  to  ridicule  because  they  refused  to  establish  a  town 
until  they  found  a  place  where  dykes  had  to  be  built  to 
keep  out  the  sea,  though  there  were  plenty  of  dry  places 
available.  These  settlers  are  acting  just  as  foolishly. 
They  have  been  used  to  grubbing,  and  they  go  where 
grubbing  has  to  be  done.  Two  miles  either  way  is  better 
land  ready  for  the  plow!  Why  can't  every  one  be  wise 
like  us?" 

"They  have  to  have  wood  for  houses,  stables,  and 
fuel,"  I  said.  "I  hope  my  land  has  timber  on  it." 

"The  railroads  are  coming,"  said  he,  "and  they  will 
bring  you  coal  and  wood  and  everything  you  want.  They 
are  racing  for  the  crossings  of  the  Mississippi.  Soon  they 
will  reach  the  Missouri — and  some  day  they  will  cross 
the  continent  to  the  Pacific.  No  more  Erie  Canals ;  no 
more  Aaron  Burr  conspiracies  for  the  control  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  Towns!  Cities!  Counties! 
States !  We  are  pioneers ;  but  civilization  is  treading  on 
our  heels.  I  feel  it  galling  my  krbes* — and  what  are  a  few 
blisters  to  me !  I  see  in  my  own  adopted  city  of  Lithopolis, 
Iowa,  a  future  Sparta  or  Athens  or  Rome,  or  anyhow,  a 
Louisville  or  Cincinnati  or  Dubuque — a  place  in  which  to 
achieve  greatness — or  anyhow,  a  chance  to  deal  in  town 
lots,  defend  criminals,  or  prosecute  them,  and  where  the 
unsettled  will  have  to  be  settled  in  the  courts  as  well  as  on 
the  farm.  On  to  Lithopolis !  G'lang,  Whiteface,  g'lang !" 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  Monterey  Centre,"  I 
said. 


*The  editor  acknowledges  the  invaluable  assistance  of  Hon 
orable  N.  V.  Creede  in  the  editing  of  the  proofs  of  this  and  a 
few  other  passages. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


148  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Not  if  the  court  knows  itself,"  he  said,  "and  it  thinks 
it  does.  Lithopolis  is  the  permanent  town  in  Monterey 
County,  and  Monterey  Centre  is  the  mushroom." 


Monterey  County,  like  all  the  eastern  counties  of 
Iowa,  all  the  counties  along  the  Missouri,  and  every  other 
county  which  was  crossed  by  a  considerable  river,  was 
dotted  with  paper  towns.  We  passed  many  of  these 
staked-out  sites  on  the  Old  Ridge  Road ;  and  we  heard  of 
them  from  buyers  of  and  dealers  in  their  lots. 

Lithopolis  was  laid  out  by  Judge  Horace  Stone,  the 
great  outsider  in  the  affairs  of  the  county  until  he  died. 
He  platted  a  town  in  Howard  County  when  the  town-lot 
fever  first  broke  out,  at  a  place  called  Stone's  Ferry,  anc 
named  it  Lithopolis,  because  his  name  was  Stone,  and 
for  the  additional  reason  that  there  was  a  stone  quarry 
there.  I've  been  told  that  the  word  means  Stone  City. 
The  people  insisted  upon  calling  it  Stone's  Ferry  and 
would  not  have  the  name  Lithopolis.  Judge  Stone  raved 
and  tore,  but  he  was  voted  down,  and  pulled  up  stakes 
in  disgust,  sold  out  his  interests  and  went  on  to  Monterey 
County,  where  he  could  establish  a  new  city  and  name  it 
Lithopolis.  He  seemed  to  care  more  for  the  name  than 
anything  else,  and  never  seemed  to  see  how  funny  it  was 
that  he  felt  it  possible  to  make  a  city  wherever  he  decreed. 
This  was  a  part  of  the  spirit  of  the  time.  The  prairies 
were  infested  with  Romuluses  and  Remuses,  flourishing, 
not  on  the  milk  of  the  wolves,  but  seemingly  on  their 
howls,  of  which  they  often  gave  a  pretty  fair  imitation. 

"But  Monterey  Centre  is  the  county-seat,"  I  sug 
gested. 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  149 

"It  just  thinks  it's  going  to  be,"  said  N.  V.  "The 
fact  is  that  Monterey  County  is  not  organized,  but  is 
attached  to  the  county  south  of  it  for  judicial  purposes. 
Let  me  whisper  in  your  ear  that  it  will  soon  be  organized, 
and  that  the  county-seat  will  not  be  Monterey  Centre, 
but  Lithopolis — that  classic  municipality  whose  sonorous 
name  will  be  the  admiration  of  all  true  Americans  and  the 
despair  of  the  spelling  classes  in  our  schools.  Lithopolis ! 
It  has  the  cadence  of  Alexander,  and  Alcibiades,  and 
Numa  Pompilius,  and  Belisarius — it  reeks  of  greatness! 
Monterey  Centre — ever  been  there  ?  Ever  seen  that  pov 
erty-stricken,  semi-hamlet,  squatting  on  the  open  prairie, 
and  inhabited  by  a  parcel  of  dreaming  Nimshies  ?" 

"No,"  said  I;  "have  you?" 

"No,"  he  replied.  "What  difference  does  it  make? 
He  that  goeth  up  against  Lithopolis  and  them  that  dwell 
therein,  the  same  is  a  dreaming  Nimshi." 

The  beginnings  of  faction  were  in  our  town-sites ; 
for  most  of  them  were  in  no  sense  towns,  or  even  villages. 
There  was  a  future  county-seat  fight  in  the  rivalry 
between  Monterey  Centre  and  Lithopolis — and  not  only 
these,  but  in  the  rival  rivalries  of  Cole's  Grove,  Imperial 
City,  Rocksylvania,  New  Baltimore,  Cathedral  Rock, 
Waynesville  and  I  know  not  how  many  more  projects,  all 
ambitiously  laid  out  in  the  still-unorganized  county  of 
Monterey,  and  all  but  one  or  two  now  quite  lost  to  all 
human  memory  or  thought,  except  as  some  diligent  ab 
stractor  of  titles  or  real-estate  lawyer  discovers  something 
of  them  in  the  chain  of  title  of  a  farm ;  the  spires  and 
gables  of  the  'fifties  realized  only  in  the  towering  silo,  the 
spinning  windmill,  or  the  vine-clad  porch  of  a  substantial 
farm-house.  But  in  the  heyday  of  their  new-driven 


150  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

corner  stakes,  what  wars  were  waged  for  the  power  to 
draw  people  into  them;  and  especially,  how  the  county- 
seat  fights  raged  like  prairie  fires  set  out  by  those  Nim- 
rods  who  sought  to  make  up  in  the  founding  of  cities  for 
what  they  lacked  as  hunters,  in  comparison  with  the  es- 
tablisher  of  Babel  and  Erech  and  Accad  and  Calneh  in 
the  land  of  Shinar. 

Between  the  Maquoketa  and  Independence  I  lost  N. 
V.  Creede,  merely  because  I  traded  for  some  more  lame 
cows  and  a  young  Alderney  bull,  and  had  to  stop  to 
break  them.  He  stayed  with  me  two  days,  and  then 
caught  a  ride  with  one  of  Judge  Horace  Stone's  teams 
which  was  making  a  quick  trip  to  Lithopolis. 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  he  at  parting,  "and 
good  luck.  I  am  sorry  not  to  be  able  to  remunerate  you 
for  your  hospitality,  which  I  shall  always  remember  for 
its  improving  conversation,  its  pancakes,  its  pork  and 
beans,  and  its  milk  and  butter,  rather  than  for  its  breath 
less  speed.  And  take  the  advice  of  your  man  of  the  law 
in  parting:  in  your  voyages  over  the  inland  waterways 
of  life,  look  not  upon  the  flush  when  it  is  red — not  even 
the  straight  one;  for  had  I  not  done  that  on  a  damned 
steamboat  coming  up  from  St.  Louis  I  should  not  have 
been  thus  in  my  old  age  forsaken.  And  let  me  tell  you, 
one  day  my  coachman  will  pull  up  at  the  door  of  your 
farm-house  and  take  you  and  your  wife  and  children  in 
my  coach  and  four  for  a  drive — perhaps  to  see  the  laying 
of  the  corner-stone  of  the  United  States  court-house  in 
Lithopolis.  I  go  from  your  ken,  but  I  shall  return — 
good-by." 

I  was  sorry  to  see  him  go.  It  was  lonesome  without 
him ;  and  I  was  troubled  by  my  live  stock.  I  soon  saw 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  151 

that  I  was  getting  so  many  cattle  that  without  help  in 
driving  them  I  should  be  obliged  to  leave  and  come  back 
for  some  of  them.  I  found  a  farmer  named  Westervelt 
who  lived  by  the  roadside,  and  had  come  to  Iowa 
from  Herkimer  County,  in  York  State.  He  even  knew 
some  of  the  relatives  of  Captain  Sproule;  so  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  he  seemed  honest,  I  left  my  cattle  with  him, 
all  but  four  cows,  and  promised  to  return  for  them  not 
later  than  the  middle  of  July.  I  made  him  give  me  a 
receipt  for  them,  setting  forth  just  what  the  bargain  was, 
and  I  paid  him  then  and  there  for  looking  out  for  them — 
and  N.  V.  Creede  said  afterward  that  the  thing  was  a 
perfectly  good  legal  document,  though  badly  spelled. 

"It  calls,"  said  he,  "for  an  application  of  the  doctrine 
of  idem  sonans — but  it  will  serve,  it  will  serve." 

I  marveled  that  the  Gowdy  carriage  still  was  astern 
of  me  after  all  this  time ;  and  speculated  as  to  whether 
there  was  not  some  other  road  between  Dyersville  and 
Independence,  by  which  they  had  passed  me;  but  a  few 
miles  east  of  Independence  they  came  up  behind  me  as  I 
lay  bogged  down  in  a  slew,  and  drove  by  on  the  green 
tough  sod  by  the  roadside.  I  had  just  hitched  the  cows 
to  the  end  of  the  tongue,  by  means  of  the  chain,  when 
they  trotted  by,  and  sweeping  down  near  me  halted. 
Virginia  still  sat  as  if  she  had  never  moved,  her  hand 
gripping  the  iron  support  of  the  carriage  top,  her  foot 
outside  the  box  as  if  she  was  ready  to  spring  out.  Buck 
Gowdy  leaped  out  and  came  down  to  me. 

"In  trouble,  Mr.  Vandemark?"  he  inquired.  "Can 
we  be  of  any  assistance?" 

"I  guess  I  can  make  it,"  I  said,  scraping  the  mud  off 
my  trousers  and  boots.  "Gee-up  there,  Liney !" 


152  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

My  cows  settled  slowly  into  the  yoke,  and  standing, 
as  they  did  now,  on  firm  ground,  they  deliberately  snaked 
the  wagon,  hub-deep  as  it  was,  out  of  the  mire,  and 
stopped  at  the  word  on  the  western  side  of  the  mud-hole. 

"Good  work,  Mr.  Vandemark!"  he  said.  "Those 
knowledgy  folk  back  along  the  road  who  said  you  were 
trading  yourself  out  of  your  patrimony  ought  to  see  you 
put  the  thing  through.  If  you  ever  need  work,  come  to 
my  place  out  in  the  new  Earthly  Eden." 

"I'll  have  plenty  of  work  of  my  own,"  I  said ;  "but 
maybe,  sometime,  I  may  need  to  earn  a  little  money.  I'll 
remember." 

I  stopped  at  Independence  that  night ;  and  so  did  the 
Gowdy  party.  I  was  on  the  road  before  them  in  the  morn 
ing,  but  they  soon  passed  me,  Virginia  looking  wishfully 
at  me  as  they  went  by,  and  Buck  Gowdy  waving  his  hand 
in  a  way  that  made  me  think  he  must  be  a  little  tight — 
and  then  they  drove  on  out  of  sight,  and  I  pursued  my 
slow  way  wondering  why  Virginia  Royall  had  asked  me 
so  anxiously  if  I  knew  any  good  people  who  would  take 
in  and  shelter  a  friendless  girl — and  not  only  take  her  in, 
but  fight  for  her.  I  could  not  understand  what  she  had 
said  in  any  other  way. 

I  had  a  hard  time  that  day.  The  road  was  already 
cut  up  and  at  the  crossings  of  the  swales  the  sod  on  which 
we  relied  to  bear  up  our  wheels  was  destroyed  by  the 
host  of  teams  that  had  gone  on  before  me.  That  endless 
stream  across  the  Dubuque  ferry  was  flowing  on  ahea'd 
of  me ;  and  the  fast-going  part  of  it  was  passing  me  every 
hour  like  swift  schooners  outstripping  a  slow,  round- 
bellied  Dutch  square-rigger. 

The  rmre-holes  were  getting  deeper  and  deeper;  for 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  153 

the  weather  was  showery.  I  helped  many  teams  out 
of  their  troubles,  and  was  helped  by  some;  though  my 
load  was  not  overly  heavy,  and  I  had  four  true-pulling 
heavy  cows  that,  when  mated  with  the  Alderney  bull 
I  had  left  behind  me  with  Mr.  Westervelt,  gave  me  the 
best  stock  of  cattle — they  and  my  other  cows — in  Mon 
terey  County,  until  Judge  Horace  Stone  began  bring 
ing  in  his  pure-bred  Shorthorns ;  and  even  then,  by  grad 
ing  up  with  Shorthorn  blood  I  was  thought  by  many  to 
have  as  good  cattle  as  he  had.  So  I  got  out  of  most  of 
my  troubles  on  the  Old  Ridge  Road  with  my  cows,  as  I 
did  later  with  them  and  their  descendants  when  the  wheat 
crop  failed  us  in  the  'seventies;  but  I  had  a  hard 
time  that  day.  It  grew  better  in  the  afternoon ;  and  as 
night  drew  on  I  could  see  the  road  for  miles  ahead  of 
me  a  solitary  stretch  of  highway,  without  a  team ;  but 
far  off,  coming  over  a  hill  toward  me,  I  saw  a  figure  that 
looked  strange  and  mysterious  to  me,  somehow. 

5 

It  seemed  to  be  a  woman  or  girl,  for  I  could  see 
even  at  that  distance  her  skirts  blown  out  by  the  brisk 
prairie  wind.  She  came  over  the  hill  as  if  running,  and 
at  its  summit  she  appeared  to  stop  as  if  looking  for  some 
thing  afar  off.  At  that  distance  I  could  not  tell  whether 
she  gazed  backward,  forward,  to  the  left  or  the  right,  but 
it  impressed  me  that  she  stood  gazing  backward  over  the 
route  to  the  west  along  which  she  had  come.  Then,  it 
was  plain,  she  began  running  down  the  gentle  declivity 
toward  me,  and  once  she  fell  and  either  lay  or  sat  on  the 
ground  for  some  time.  Presently,  though,  she  got  up,  and 
began  coming  on  more  slowly,  sometimes  as  if  running, 


154  VANDEM ARK'S  FOLLY 

most  of  the  time  going  from  side  to  side  of  the  road  as  if 
staggering — and  finally  she  went  out  of  my  sight,  drop 
ping  into  a  wide  valley,  to  the  bottom  of  which  I  could 
not  see.  It  was  strange,  as  it  appeared  to  me;  this  lone 
woman,  the  prairie,  night,  and  the  sense  of  trouble ;  but, 
I  thought,  like  most  queer  things,  it  would  have  some 
quite  simple  explanation  if  one  could  see  it  close  by. 

I  made  camp  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  road  by 
a  creek,  along  the  banks  of  which  grew  many  willows, 
and  some  little  groves  of  box-elders  and  popples,  which 
latter  in  this  favorable  locality  grew  eight  or  ten  feet 
tall,  and  were  already  breaking  out  their  soft  greenish 
catkins  and  tender,  quivering,  pointed  leaves:  in  one  of 
these  clumps  I  hid  my  wagon,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  I 
kindled  my  camp-fire.  It  seemed  already  a  little  odd  to 
find  myself  where  I  could  not  look  out  afar  over  the 
prairie. 

The  little  creek  ran  bank-full,  but  clear,  and  not 
muddy  as  our  streams  now  always  are  after  a  rain.  One 
of  the  losses  of  Iowa  through  civilization  has  been  the 
disappearance  of  our  lovely  little  brooks.  Then  every 
few  miles  there  ran  a  rivulet  as  clear  as  crystal,  its  bottom 
checkered  at  the  riffles  into  a  brilliant  pattern  like  plaid 
delaine  by  the  shining  of  the  clean  red,  white  and  yellow 
granite  pebbles  through  the  crossed  ripples  from  the 
banks.  Now  these  watercourses  are  robbed  of  their  flow 
by  the  absorption  of  the  rich  plowed  fields,  are  all  silted 
up,  and  in  summer  are  dry ;  and  in  spring  and  fall  they  are 
muddy  bankless  wrinkles  in  the  fields,  poached  full  by 
the  hoofs  of  cattle  an'd  the  snouts  of  hogs ;  and  through 
many  a  swale,  you  would  now  be  surprised  to  know,  in 
1855  tnere  ran  a  brook  two  feet  wide  in  a  thousand  little 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  155 

loops,  with  beautiful  dark  quiet  pools  at  the  turns,  some 
of  them  mantled  with  white  water-lilies,  and  some  with 
yellow.  Over-hanging  banks  of  rooty  turf,  had  these 
creeks,  under  which  the  larger  and  soberer  fishes  lurked 
in  dignified  caution  like  bank  presidents,  too  wise  for  any 
common  bait,  but  eager  for  the  big  good  things.  The 
narrower  reaches  were  all  overshadowed  by  the  long 
grass  until  you  had  to  part  the  greenery  to  see  the 
water.  Now  such  a  valley  is  a  forest  of  corn  unbroken 
by  any  vestige  of  brook,  creek,  rivulet  or  rill. 

That  night  at  a  spot  which  is  now  plow-land,  I  have 
no  doubt,  I  listened  to  the  frogs  and  prairie-chickens 
while  I  caught  a  mess  of  chubs,  shiners,  punkin-seeds 
and  bullheads  in  a  little  pond  not  ten  feet  broad,  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  my  wagon,  and  then  rolled  them  in 
flour  and  fried  them  in  butter  over  my  fire,  wondering 
all  the  time  about  the  woman  I  had  seen  coming  eastward 
on  the  road  ahead  of  me. 

I  was  still  in  sight  of  the  road,  and  the  twilight  was 
settling  down  gradually;  the  air  was  so  clear  that  even 
in  the  absence  of  a  moon,  it  was  long  after  sunset  before 
it  was  dark;  so  I  could  sit  in  my  dwarf  forest,  and  keep 
watch  of  the  road  to  the  west  to  see  whether  that  wo 
man  was  really  a  lonely  wanderer  against  the  stream  of 
travel,  or  only  a  stray  from  some  mover's  wagon  camped 
ahead  of  me  along  the  road. 

A  pack  of  wolves  just  off  the  road  and  to  the  west  at 
that  moment  began  their  devilish  concert  over  some  way 
side  carcass — just  at  the  moment  when  she  came  in  sight. 
She  appeared  in  the  road  where  it  came  into  my  view 
twenty  rods  or  so  beyond  the  creek,  and  on  the  other  side 
of  it. 


156  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

I  heard  her  scream  when  the  first  howls  of  the  wolves 
broke  the  silence ;  and  then  she  came  running,  stumbling, 
falling,  partly  toward  me  and  partly  toward  a  point  up 
stream,  where  I  thought  she  must  mean  to  cross  the  brook 
— a  thing  which  was  very  easy  for  one  on  foot,  since  it 
called  only  for  a  little  jump  from  one  bank  to  the 
other.  She  seemed  to  be  carrying  something  which  when 
she  fell  would  fly  out  of  her  hand,  and  which  in  spite  of 
her  panic  she  would  pick  up  before  she  ran  on  again. 

She  came  on  uncertainly,  but  always  running  away 
from  the  howls  of  the  wolves,  and  just  before  she  reached 
the  little  creek,  she  stopped  and  looked  back,  as  if  for  a 
sight  of  pursuers — and  there  were  pursuers.  Perhaps  a 
hundred  yards  back  of  her  I  saw  four  or  five  slinking 
dark  forms ;  for  the  cowardly  prairie  wolf  becomes  bold 
when  fled  from,  and  partly  out  of  curiosity,  and  perhaps 
looking  forward  to  a  feast  on  some  dead  or  dying  animal, 
they  were  stalking  the  girl,  silent,  shadowy,  evil,  and 
maybe  dangerous.  She  saw  them  too — and  with  another 
scream  she  plunged  on  through  the  knee-high  grass,  fell 
splashing  into  the  icy  water  of  the  creek,  and  I  lost  sight 
of  her. 

My  first  thought  was  that  she  was  in  danger  of 
drowning,  notwithstanding  the  littleness  of  the  brook ;  and 
I  ran  to  the  point  from  which  I  had  heard  her  plunge 
into  the  water,  expecting  to  have  to  draw  her  out 
on  the  bank;  but  I  found  only  a  place  where  the  grass 
was  wallowed  down  as  she  had  crawled  out,  and  lying  on 
the  ground  was  the  satchel  she  had  been  carrying.  Dark 
as  it  was  I  could  see  her  trail  through  the  grass  as  she 
had  made  her  way  on ;  and  I  followed  it  with  her  sachel 
in  my  hand,  with  some  foolish  notion  of  opening  a  conver 
sation  with  her  by  giving  it  back  to  her. 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  157 

A  short  distance  farther,  on  the  upland,  were  my  four 
cows,  tied  head  and  foot  so  they  could  graze,  lying  down 
to  rest ;  and  staggering  on  toward  them  went  the 
woman's  form,  zigzagging  in  bewilderment.  She  came 
all  at  once  upon  the  dozing  cows,  which  suddenly  gathered 
themselves  together  in  fright,  hampered  by  their  hobbling 
ropes,  and  one  of  them  sent  forth  that  dreadful  bellow 
of  a  scared  cow,  worse  than  a  lion's  roar.  The  woman 
uttered  another  piercing  cry,  louder  and  shriller  than  any 
she  had  given  yet;  she  turned  and  ran  back  to  me,  saw 
my  dark  form  before  her,  and  fell  in  a  heap  in  the  grass, 
helpless,  unnerved,  quivering,  quite  done  for. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  said  I ;  "I  won't  let  them  hurt  you 
— I  won't  let  anything  hurt  you!" 

I  didn't  go  very  near  her  at  first,  and  I  did  not  touch 
her.  I  stood  there  repeating  that  the  wolves  would  not 
hurt  her,  that  it  was  only  a  gentle  cow  which  had  made 
that  awful  noise,  that  I  was  only  a  boy  on  my  way  to 
my  farm,  and  not  afraid  of  wolves  at  all,  or  of  anything 
else.  I  kept  repeating  these  simple  words  of  reassurance 
over  and  over,  standing  maybe  a  rod  from  her ;  and  from 
that  distance  stepping  closer  and  closer  until  I  stood  over 
her,  and  found  that  she  was  moaning  and  catching  her 
breath,  her  face  in  her  arms,  stretched  out  on  the  cold 
ground,  wet  and  miserable,  all  alone  on  the  boundless 
prairie  except  for  a  foolish  boy  who  did  not  know  what 
to  do  with  her  or  with  himself,  but  was  repeating  the 
promise  that  he  would  not  let  anything  hurt  her.  She 
has  told  me  since  that  if  I  had  touched  her  she  would  have 
died.  It  was  a  long  time  before  she  said  anything. 

"The  wolves!"  she  cried.    "The  wolves!" 

"They  are  gone,"  I  said.  "They  are  all  gone— and 
I've  got  a  gun." 


158  VANDEM ARK'S  FOLLY 

"Oh!  Oh!"  she  cried:  "Keep  them  away!  Keep 
them  away!" 

She  kept  saying  this  over  and  over,  sitting  on  the 
ground  and  staring  out  into  the  darkness,  starting  at  every 
rustle  of  the  wind,  afraid  of  everything.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  she  uttered  a  word  except  exclamations  of 
terror,  and  every  once  in  a  while  she  broke  down  in  con 
vulsive  sobbings.  I  thought  there  was  something  familiar 
in  her  voice ;  but  I  could  not  see  well  enough  to  recognize 
her  features,  though  it  was  plain  that  she  was  a  young 
girl. 

"The  wolves  are  gone,"  I  said ;  "I  have  scared  them 
off." 

"Don't  let  them  come  back,"  she  sobbed.  "Don't  let 
them  come  back !" 

"I've  got  a  little  camp-fire  over  yonder,"  I  said ; 
"and  if  we  go  to  it,  I'll  build  it  up  bright,  and  that  will 
scare  them  most  to  death.  They're  cowards,  the  wolves — 
a  camp-fire  will  make  'em  run.  Let's  go  to  the  fire." 

She  made  an  effort  to  get  up,  but  fell  back  to  the 
ground  in  a  heap.  I  was  just  at  that  age  when  every 
boy  is  afraid  of  girls ;  and  while  I  had  had  my  dreams  of 
rescuing  damsels  from  danger  and  serving  them  in  other 
heroic  ways  as  all  boys  do,  when  the  pinch  came  I  did  not 
know  what  to  do;  she  put  up  her  hand,  though,  and  T 
took  it  and  helped  her  to  her  feet ;  but  she  could  not  walk. 
Summoning  up  my  courage  I  picked  her  up  and  carried 
her  toward  the  fire.  She  said  nothing,  except,  of  course, 
that  she  was  too  heavy  for  me  to  carry ;  but  she  clung  to 
me  convulsively.  I  could  feel  her  heart  beating  furiously 
against  me,  and  she  was  twitching  and  quivering  in  every 
limb. 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  159 

"You  are  the  boy  who  took  care  of  me  back  there  when 
my  sister  died,"  said  she  as  I  carried  her  along. 
"Are  you  Mrs.  Gowdy's  sister  ?"  I  asked. 
"I  am  Virginia  Royall,"  she  said. 


She  was  very  wet  and  very  cold.  I  set  her  down 
on  the  spring  seat  where  she  could  lean  back,  and  wrapped 
her  in  a  buffalo  robe,  building  up  the  fire  until  it  warmed 
her. 

<Tm  glad  it's  you !"  she  said. 

Presently  I  had  hot  coffee  for  her,  and  some  warm 
milk,  with  the  fish  and  good  bread  and  butter,  and  a  few 
slices  of  crisp  pork  which  I  had  fried,  and  browned 
warmed-up  potatoes.  There  was  smear-case  too,  milk 
gravy  and  sauce  made  of  English  currants.  She  began 
picking  at  the  food,  saying  that  she  could  not  eat ;  and  I 
noticed  that  her  lips  were  pale,  while  her  face  was 
crimson  as  if  with  fever.  She  had  had  nothing  to  eat 
for  twenty-four  hours  except  some  crackers  and  cheese 
which  she  had  hidden  in  her  satchel  before  running  away ; 
so  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  in  a  bad  way  from  all 
she  had  gone  through,  she  did  eat  a  fair  meal  of  victuals. 

I  thought  she  ought  to  be  talked  to  so  as  to  take  her 
mind  from  her  fright ;  but  I  could  think  of  nothing  but 
my  way  of  cooking  the  victuals,  and  how  much  I  wished 
I  could  give  her  a  better  meal — just  the  same  sort  of  talk 
a  woman  is  always  laughed  at  for — but  she  did  not  say 
much  to  me.  I  suppose  her  strange  predicament  began 
returning  to  her  mind. 

I  had  already  made  up  my  mind  that  she  should 
sleep  in  the  wagon,  while  I  rolled  up  in  the  buffalo 


i6o  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

robe  by  the  fire;  but  it  seemed  a  very  bad  and  unsafe 
thing  to  allow  her  to  go  to  bed  wet  as  she  was.  I  was 
afraid  to  mention  it  to  her,  however,  until  finally  I 
saw  her  shiver  as  the  fire  died  down.  I  tried  to 
persuade  her  to  use  the  covered  wagon  as  a  bedroom, 
and  to  let  me  dry  her  clothes  by  the  fire ;  but  she  hung 
back,  saying  little  except  that  she  was  not  very  wet,  and 
hesitating  and  seeming  embarrassed;  but  after  I  had 
heated  the  bed-clothes  by  the  fire,  and  made  up  the  bed 
as  nicely  as  I  could,  I  got  her  into  the  wagon  and  handed 
her  the  satchel  which  I  had  clung  to  while  bringing  -her 
back;  and  although  she  had  never  consented  to  my  plan 
she  finally  poked  her  clothes  out  from  under  the  cover 
at  the  side  of  the  wagon,  in  a  sort  of  damp  wad,  and  I 
went  to  work  getting  them  in  condition  to  wear  again. 

I  blushed  as  I  unfolded  the  wet  dress,  the  underwear, 
and  the  petticoats,  and  spread  them  over  a  drying  rack  of 
willow  wands  which  I  had  put  up  by  the  fire.  I  had 
never  seen  such  things  before  ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  it  would 
be  very  hard  for  me  to  meet  Virginia  in  the  open  day 
afterward — and  yet  as  I  watched  by  the  clothes  I  had  a 
feeling  of  exaltation  like  that  which  young  knights  may 
have  had  as  they  watched  through  the  darkness  by  their 
armor  for  the  ceremony  of  knighthood;  except  that  no 
such  knight  could  have  had  all  my  thoughts  and  feelings. 

Perhaps  the  Greek  boy  who  once  intruded  upon  a  god 
dess  in  her  temple  had  an  experience  more  like  mine; 
though  in  my  case  the  goddess  had  taken  part  in  the 
ceremony  and  consented  to  it.  There  would  be  something 
between  us  forever,  I  felt,  different  from  anything  that 
had  ever  taken  place  between  a  boy  and  girl  in  all  the 
world  (it  always  begins  in  that  way),  something  of  which 
I  could  never  speak  to  her  or  to  any  one,  something  which 


AN  EMBARRASSING  ADDITION  161 

would  make  her  different  to  me,  in  a  strange,  intimate, 
unspeakable  way,  whether  I  ever  saw  her  again  or  not. 
Oh,  the  lost  enchantment  of  youth,  which  makes  an  idol 
of  a  discarded  pair  of  corsets,  and  locates  a  dream  land 
about  the  combings  of  a  woman's  hair ;  and  lives  a  cen 
tury  of  bliss  in  a  day  of  embarrassed  silence ! 

It  must  have  been  three  o'clock,  for  the  rooster  of 
the  half-dozen  fowls  which  I  had  traded  for  had  just 
crowed,  when  Virginia  called  to  me  from  the  wagon. 

"That  man,"  said  she  in  a  scared  voice,  "is  hunting 
for  me." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  only  guessing  whom  she  meant. 

"If  he  takes  me  I  shall  kill  myself!" 

"He  will  never  take  you  from  me,"  I  said. 

"What  can  you  do?" 

"I  have  had  a  thousand  fights,"  I  said ;  "and  I  have 
never  been  whipped !" 

I  afterward  thought  of  one  or  two  cases  in  which 
bigger  boys  had  bested  me,  though  I  had  never  cried 
"Enough!"  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  not  quite 
honest  to  leave  her  thinking  such  a  thing  of  me  when 
it  was  not  quite  so.  And  it  looked  a  little  like  bragging; 
but  it  appeared  to  quiet  her,  and  I  let  it  go.  From  the 
mention  she  had  made  back  there  at  Dyersville  of  men 
who  could  fight,  using  pistol  or  knife,  she  apparently  was 
accustomed  to  men  who  carried  and  used  weapons ;  but, 
thought  I,  I  had  never  owned,  much  less  carried,  any 
weapons  except  my  two  hard  fists.  Queer  enough  to  say 
I  never  thought  of  the  strangeness  of  a  boy's  making  his 
way  into  a  new  land  with  a  strange  girl  suddenly  thrown 
on  his  hands  as  a  new  and  precious  piece  of  baggage  to 
be  secreted,  smuggled,  cared  for  and  defended. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY 

WHEN  I  had  got  up  in  the  morning  and  rounded  up 
my  cows  I  started  a  fire  and  began  whistling.  I 
was  not  in  the  habit  of  whistling  much ;  but  I  wanted  her 
to  wake  up  and  dress  so  I  could  get  the  makings  of  the 
breakfast  out  of  the  wagon.  After  I  had  the  fire  going 
and  liad  whistled  all  the  tunes  I  knew — Lorena,  The 
Gipsy's  Warning,  I'd  Offer  Thee  This  Hand  of  Mine, 
and  Joe  Bowers,  I  tapped  on  the  side  of  the  wagon,  and 
said  "Virginia!" 

She  gave  a  scream,  and  almost  at  once  I  heard  her 
voice  calling  in  terror  from  the  back  of  the  wagon;  and 
on  running  around  to  the  place  I  found  that  she  had 
stuck  her  head  out  of  the  opening  of  the  wagon  cover  and 
was  calling  for  help  and  protection. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  said  I.  "There's  nobody  here  but 
me." 

"Somebody  called  me  'Virginia/  "  she  cried,  her  face 
pale  and  her  whole  form  trembling.  "Nobody  but  that 
man  in  all  this  country  would  call  me  that." 

She  hardly  ever  called  Gowdy  by  any  other  name 
but  "that  man,"  so  far  as  I  have  heard.  Something  had 
taken  place  which  struck  her  with  a  sort  of  dumbness; 
and  I  really  believe  she  could  not  then  have  spoken  the 

162 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  163 

name  Gowdy  if  she  had  tried.  What  it  was  that  hap 
pened  she  never  told  any  one,  unless  it  was  Grandma 
Thorndyke,  who  was  always  dumb  regarding  the  sort  of 
thing  which  all  the  neighbors  thought  took  place.  To 
Grandma  Thorndyke  sex  must  have  seemed  the  original 
curse  imposed  on  our  first  parents ;  eggs  and  link  sau 
sages  were  repulsive  because  they  suggested  the  insides  of 
animals  and  vital  processes;  and  a  perfect  human  race 
would  have  been  to  her  made  up  of  beings  nourished  by 
the  odors  of  flowers,  and  perpetuated  by  the  planting  of 
the  parings  of  finger-nails  in  antiseptic  earth — or  some 
thing  of  the  sort.  My  live-stock  business  always  had 
to  her  its  seamy  side  and  its  underworld  which  she  al 
ways  turned  her  face  away  from — though  I  never  saw  a 
woman  who  could  take  a  new-born  pig,  calf,  colt  or  fowl, 
once  it  was*  really  brought  forth  so  it  could  be  spoken  of, 
and  raise  it  from  the  dead,  almost,  as  she  could.  But 
every  trace  of  the  facts  up  to  that  time  had  to  be  con 
cealed,  and  if  not  they  were  ignored  by  Grandma  Thorn- 
dyke.  New  England  all  over! 

If  Gowdy  was  actually  guilty  of  the  sort  of  affront 
to  little  Virginia  for  which  the  public  thought  him  re 
sponsible,  I  do  not  see  how  the  girl  could  ever  have  told 
it  to  grandma.  I  do  not  see  how  grandma  could  ever 
have  been  made  to  understand  it.  I  suspect  that  the 
worst  that  grandma  ever  believed,  was  that  Gowdy  swore 
or  used  what  she  called  vulgar  language  in  Virginia's 
presence.  Knowing  him  as  we  all  did  afterward,  we 
suspected  that  he  attempted  to  treat  her  as  he  treated  all 
women — and  as  I  believe  he  could  not  help  treating  them. 
It  seems  impossible  of  belief — his  wife's  orphan  sister, 
the  recent  death  of  Ann  Gowdy,  the  girl's  helplessness 


164  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  she  only  a  little  girl;  but  Buck  Gowdy  was  Buck 
Gowdy,  and  that  escape  of  his  wife's  sister  and  her  flight 
over  the  prairie  was  the  indelible  black  mark  against  him 
which  was  pointed  at  from  time  to  time  forever  after 
whenever  the  people  were  ready  to  forgive  those  daily 
misdoings  to  which  a  frontier  people  were  not  so  critical 
as  perhaps  they  should  have  been.  Indeed  he  gained  a 
certain  popularity  from  his  boast  that  all  the  time  he 
needed  to  gain  control  over  any  woman  was  half  an  hour 
alone  with  her — but  of  that  later,  if  at  all. 

"That  was  me  that  called  you  'Virginia/  "  said  I.  "I 
want  to  get  into  the  wagon  to  get  things  for  breakfast — 
after  you  get  up." 

"I  never  thought  of  your  calling  me  Virginia,"  she 
answered — and  I  had  no  idea  what  was  in  her  mind.  I 
saw  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't  call  her  by  her  first  name. 
"Miss"  Royall  would  have  been  my  name  for  the  wife 
of  a  man  named  Royall.  It  was  not  until  long  afterward 
that  I  found  out  how  different  my  manners  were  from 
those  to  which  she  was  accustomed. 

I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  varying  from  my 
course  of  conduct  on  her  account;  and  just  as  would 
have  been  the  case  if  my  outfit  had  been  a  boat  for  which 
time  and  tide  would  not  wait,  I  yoked  up,  after  the  break 
fast  was  done,  and  prepared  to  negotiate  the  miry  cross 
ing  of  the  creek  and  pull  out  for  Monterey  County, 
which  I  hoped  to  reach  in  time  to  break  some  land  and 
plant  a  small  crop.  We  did  not  discuss  the  matter  of  her 
going  with  me — I  think  we  both  took  that  for  granted. 
She  stood  on  a  little  knoll  while  I  was  making  ready  to 
start,  gazing  westward,  and  when  the  sound  of  crack 
ing  whips  and  the  shouts  of  teamsters  told  of  the  ap- 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  165 

proach  of  movers  from  the  East,  even  though  we  were 
some  distance  off  the  trail,  she  crept  into  the  wagon  so  as 
to  be  out  of  sight.  She  had  eaten  little,  and  seemed 
weak  and  spent;  and  when  we  started,  I  arranged  the 
bed  in  the  wagon  for  her  to  lie  upon,  just  as  I  had  done 
for  Doctor  Bliven's  woman,  and  she  seemed  to  hide 
rather  than  anything  else  as  she  crept  into  it.  So  on  we 
went,  the  wagon  jolting  roughly  at  times,  and  at  times 
running  smoothly  enough  as  we  reached  dry  roads  worn 
smooth  by  travel. 

Sometimes  as  I  looked  back,  I  could  see  her  face  with 
the  eyes  fixed  upon  me  questioningly ;  and  then  she 
would  ask  me  if  I  could  see  any  one  coming  toward  us 
on  the  road  ahead. 

"Nobody/'  I  would  say ;  or,  "A  covered  wagon  going 
the  wrong  way,"  or  whatever  I  saw.  "Don't  be  afraid," 
I  would  add;  "stand  on  your  rights.  This  is  a  free 
country.  You've  got  the  right  to  go  east  or  west  with 
any  one  you  choose,  and  nobody  can  say  anything  against 
it.  And  you've  got  a  friend  now,  you  know." 

"Is  anybody  in  sight?"  she  asked  again,  after  a  long 
silence. 

I  looked  far  ahead  from  the  top  of  a  swell  in  the 
prairie  and  then  back.  I  told  her  that  there  was  no  one 
ahead  so  far  as  I  could  see  except  teams  that  we  could 
not  overtake,  and  nobody  back  of  us  but  outfits  even 
slower  than  mine.  So  she  came  forward,  and  I  helped  her 
over  the  back  of  the  seat  to  a  place  by  my  side.  For  the 
first  time  I  could  get  a  good  look  at  her  undisturbed — if 
a  bashful  boy  like  me  could  be  undisturbed  journeying 
over  the  open  prairie  with  a  girl  by  his  side — a  girl  al 
together  in  his  hands. 


i66  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

First  I  noticed  that  her  hair,  though  dark  brown, 
gave  out  gleams  of  bright  dark  fire  as  the  sun  shone 
through  it  in  certain  ways.  I  kept  glancing  at  that  shift 
ing  gleam  whenever  we  turned  the  slow  team  so  that  her 
hair  caught  the  sun.  I  have  seen  the  same  flame  in  the 
mane  of  a  black  horse  bred  from  a  sorrel  dam  or  sire. 
As  a  stock  breeder  I  have  learned  that  in  such  cases 
there  is  in  the  heredity  the  genetic  unit  of  red  hair  over 
laid  with  black  pigment.  It  is  the  same  in  people.  Vir 
ginia's  father  had  red  hair,  and  her  sister  Ann  Gowdy 
had  hair  which  was  a  dark  auburn.  I  was  fascinated  by 
that  smoldering  fire  in  the  girl's  hair;  and  in  looking  at 
it  I  finally  grew  bolder,  as  I  saw  that  she  did  not  seem 
to  suspect  my  scrutiny,  and  I  saw  that  her  brows  and 
lashes  were  black,  and  her  eyes  very,  very  blue — not  the 
buttermilk  blue  of  the  Dutchman's  eyes,  like  mine,  with 
brows  and  lashes  lighter  than  the  sallow  Dutch  skin,  but 
deep  larkspur  blue,  with  a  dark  edging  to  the  pupil — 
eyes  that  sometimes,  in  a  dim  light,  or  when  the  pupils 
are  dilated,  seem  black  to  a  person  who  does  not  look 
closely.  Her  skin,  too,  showed  her  ruddy  breed — for 
though  it  was  tanned  by  her  long  journey  in  the  sun  and 
wind,  there  glowed  in  it,  even  through  her  paleness,  a 
tinge  of  red  blood — and  her  nose  was  freckled.  Glimpses 
of  her  neck  and  bosom  revealed  a  skin  of  the  thinnest, 
whitest  texture — quite  milk-white,  with  pink  showing 
through  on  account  of  the  heat.  She  had  little  strong 
brown  hands,  and  the  foot  which  she  put  on  the  dash 
board  was  a  very  trim  and  graceful  foot  like  that  of  a 
thoroughbred  mare,  built  for  flight  rather  than  work, 
and  it  swelled  beautifully  in  its  grass-stained  white  stock 
ing  above  her  slender  ankle  to  the  modest  skirt. 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  167 

A  great  hatred  for  Buck  Gowdy  surged  through  me 
as  I  felt  her  beside  me  in  the  seat  and  studied  one  after 
the  other  her  powerful  attractions — the  hatred,  not  for 
the  man  who  misuses  the  defenseless  girl  left  in  his 
power  by  cruel  fate;  but  the  lust  for  conquest  over  the 
man  who  had  this  girl  in  his  hands  and  who,  as  she 
feared,  was  searching  for  her.  I  mention  these  things 
because,  while  they  do  not  excuse  some  things  that  hap 
pened,  they  do  show  that,  as  a  boy  who  had  lived  the  un 
controlled  and,  by  association,  the  evil  life  which  I  had 
lived,  I  was  put  in  a  very  hard  place. 


After  a  while  Virginia  looked  back,  and  clutched  my 
arm  convulsively. 

"There's  a  carriage  overtaking  us!"  she  whispered. 
"Don't  stop!  Help  me  to  climb  back  and  cover  myself 
up!" 

She  was  quite  out  of  sight  when  the  carriage  turned 
out  to  pass,  drove  on  ahead,  and  then  halted  partly 
across  the  road  so  as  to  show  that  the  occupants  wanted 
word  with  me.  I  brought  my  wagon  to  a  stop  beside 
them. 

"We  are  looking,"  said  the  man  in  the  carriage,  "for 
a  young  girl  traveling  alone  on  foot  over  the  prairie." 

The  man  was  clearly  a  preacher.  He  wore  a  tall 
beaver  hat,  though  the  day  was  warm,  and  a  suit  of  minis 
terial  black.  His  collar  stood  out  in  points  on  each  side 
of  his  chin,  and  his  throat  rested  on  a  heavy  stock-cravat 
which  went  twice  around  his  neck  and  was  tied  in  a  stout 
square  knot  under  his  chin  on  the  second  turn.  Under 
this  black  choker  was  a  shirt  of  snowy  white,  as  was  his 


i68  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

collar,  while  his  coat  and  trousers  looked  worn  and 
threadbare.  His  face  was  smooth-shaven,  and  his  hair 
once  black  was  now  turning  iron-gray.  He  was  then 
about  sixty  years  old. 

"A  girl,"  said  I  deceitfully,  "traveling  afoot  and 
alone  on  the  prairie?  Going  which  way?" 

The  woman  in  the  carriage  now  leaned  forward  and 
took  part  in  the  conversation.  She  was  Grandma  Thorn- 
dyke,  of  whom  I  have  formerly  made  mention.  Her 
hair  was  white,  even  then.  I  think  she  was  a  little  older 
than  her  husband;  but  if  so  she  never  admitted  it.  He 
was  a  slight  small  man,  but  wiry  and  strong;  while  she 
was  taller  than  he  and  very  spare  and  grave.  She  wore 
steel-bowed  spectacles,  and  looked  through  you  when 
she  spoke.  I  am  sure  that  if  she  had  ever  done  so  awful 
a  thing  as  to  have  put  on  a  man's  clothes  no  one  would 
have  seen  through  her  disguise  from  her  form,  or  even 
by  her  voice,  which  was  a  ringing  tenor  and  was  always 
heard  clear  and  strong  carrying  the  soprano  in  the  First 
Congregational  Church  of  Monterey  Centre  after  Elder 
Thorndyke  had  succeeded  in  getting  it  built. 

"Her  name  is  Royall,"  said  Grandma  Thorndyke — I 
may  as  well  begin  calling  her  that  now  as  ever — 
"Genevieve  Royall.  When  last  seen  she  was  walking 
eastward  on  this  road,  where  she  is  subject  to  all  sorts 
of  dangers  from  wild  weather  and  wild  beasts.  A  man  on 
horseback  named  Gowdy,  with  a  negro,  came  into  Inde 
pendence  looking  for  her  this  morning1  after  searching 
everywhere  along  the  road  from  some  place  west  back  to 
the  settlement.  She  is  sixteen  years  old.  There 
wouldn't  be  any  other  girl  traveling  alone  and  without 
provision.  Have  you  passed  such  a  person?" 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  169 

"No,  I  hain't,"  said  I.  The  name  "Genevieve" 
helped  me  a  little  in  this  deceit. 

"You  haven't  heard  any  of  the  people  on  the  road 
speak  of  this  wandering  girl,  have  you?"  asked  Elder 
Thorndyke. 

"No,"  I  answered;  "and  I  guess  if  any  of  them  had 
seen  her  they'd  have  mentioned  it,  wouldn't  they?" 

"And  you  haven't  seen  any  lone  girl  or  woman  at  all, 
even  at  a  distance?"  inquired  Grandma  Thorndyke. 

"If  she  passed  me,"  I  said,  turning  and  twisting  to 
keep  from  telling  an  outright  lie,  "it  was  while  I  was 
camped  last  night.  I  camped  quite  a  little  ways  from 
the  track." 

"She  has  wandered  off  upon  the  trackless  prairie!" 
exclaimed  Grandma  Thorndyke.  "God  help  her!" 

"He  will  protect  her,"  said  the  elder  piously. 

"Maybe  she  met  some  one  going  west,"  I  suggested, 
rather  truthfully,  I  thought,  "that  took  her  in.  She  may 
be  going  back  west  with  some  one." 

"Mr.  Gowdy  told  us  back  in  Independence,"  returned 
Elder  Thorndyke,  "that  he  had  inquired  of  every  outfit 
he  met  from  the  time  she  left  him  clear  back  to  that 
place ;  and  he  overtook  the  only  two  teams  on  that  whole 
stretch  of  road  that  were  going  east.  It  is  hard  to  un 
derstand.  It's  a  mystery." 

"Was  he  going  on  east?"  I  asked — and  I  thought  I 
heard  a  stir  in  the  bed  back  of  me  as  I  waited  for  the 
answer. 

"No,"  said  the  elder,  "he  is  coming  back  this  way, 
hunting  high  and  low  for  her.  I  have  no  doubt  he  will 
find  her.  She  can  not  have  reached  a  point  much  farther 
east  than  this.  She  is  sure  to  be  found  somewhere  be- 


170  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

tween  here  and  Independence — or  within  a  short,  distance 
of  here.  There  is  nothing  dangerous  in  the  weather,  the 
wild  animals,  or  anything,  but  the  bewilderment  of  being 
lost  and  the  lack  of  food.  God  will  not  allow  her  to  be 
lost." 

"I  guess  not,"  said  I,  thinking  of  the  fate  which  led 
me  to  my  last  night's  camp,  and  of  Gowdy's  search  hav 
ing  missed  me  as  he  rode  by  in  the  night. 

They  drove  on,  leaving  us  standing  by  the  roadside. 
Virginia  crept  forward  and  peeked  over  the  back  of  the 
seat  after  them  until  they  disappeared  over  a  hillock. 
Then  she  began  begging  me  to  go  where  Gowdy  could 
not  find  us.  He  would  soon  come  along,  she  said,  with 
that  tool  of  his,  Pinck  Johnson,  searching  high  and  low 
for  her  as  that  man  had  said.  Everybody  would  help 
him  but  me.  I  was  all  the  friend  she  had.  Even  those 
two  good  people  who  were  inquiring  were  helping 
Gowdy.  I  must  drive  where  he  could  not  find  us.  I 
must! 

"He  can't  take  you  from  me,"  I  declared,  "unless  you 
want  to  go !" 

"What  can  you  do?"  she  urged  wildly.  "You  are 
too  young  to  stand  in  his  way.  Nobody  can  stand  in  his 
way.  Nobody  ever  did !  And  they  are  two  to  one.  Let 
us  hide !  Let  us  hide !" 

"I  can  stand  in  anybody's  way,"  I  said,  "if  I  want 
to." 

I  was  not  really  afraid  of  them  if  worst  came  to 
worst,  but  I  did  see  that  it  was  two  to  one ;  so  I  thought 
of  evading  the  search,  but  the  hiding  of  a  team  of  four 
cows  and  a  covered  wagon  on  the  open  Iowa  prairie  was 
no  easy  trick.  If  I  turned  off  the  road  my  tracks  would 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  171 

show  for  half  a  mile.  If  once  the  problem  of  hiding  my 
tracks  was  solved,  the  rest  would  be  easy.  I  could  keep 
in  the  hollows  for  a  few  miles  until  out  of  sight  of  the 
Ridge  Road,  and  Gowdy  might  rake  the  wayside 
to  his  heart's  content  and  never  find  us  except  by  acci 
dent;  but  I  saw  no  way  of  getting  off  the  traveled  way 
without  advertising  my  flight.  Of  course  Gowdy  would 
follow  up  every  fresh  track  because  it  was  almost  the 
only  thing  he  could  do  with  any  prospect  of  striking  the 
girl's  trail.  I  thought  these  things  over  as  I  drove  on 
westward.  I  quieted  her  by  saying  that  I  had  to  think  it 
out. 

It  was  a  hot  afternoon  by  this  time,  and  looked  like 
a  stormy  evening.  The  clouds  were  rolling  up  in  the 
north  and  west  in  lofty  thunderheads,  pearl-white  in  the 
hot  sun,  with  great  blue  valleys  and  gorges  below,  filled 
with  shadows.  Virginia,  in  a  fever  of  terror,  spent  a 
part  of  her  time  looking  out  at  the  hind-end  of  the  wagon- 
cover  for  Gowdy  and  Pinck  Johnson,  and  a  part  of  it 
leaning  over  the  back  of  the  seat  pleading  with  me  to 
leave  the  road  and  hide  her.  Presently  the  clouds 
touched  the  sun,  and  in  a  moment  the  day  grew  dark. 
Far  down  near  the  horizon  I  could  see  the  black  fringe 
of  the  falling  rain  under  the  tumbling  clouds,  and  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  the  wind  began  to  blow  from  the 
storm,  which  had  been  mounting  the  sky  fast  enough  to 
startle  one.  The  storm-cloud  was  now  ripped  and  torn 
by  lightning,  and  deep  rumbling  peals  of  thunder  came 
to  our  ears  all  the  time  louder  and  nearer.  The  wind 
blew  sharper,  and  whistled  shrilly  through  the  rigging  of 
my  prairie  schooner,  there  came  a  few  drops  of  rain,  then 
a  scud  of  finer  spray:  and  then  the  vhole  plain  to  the 


172  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

northwest  turned  white  with  a  driving  sheet  of  water 
which  came  on,  swept  over  us,  and  blotted  everything 
from  sight  in  a  great  commingling  of  wind,  water,  fire 
and  thunder. 

Virginia  cowered  on  the  bed,  throwing  the  quilt  over 
her.  My  cattle  turned  their  rumps  to  the  storm  and 
stood  heads  down,  the  water  running  from  their  noses, 
tails  and  bellies,  and  from  the  bows  and  yokes.  I  had 
stopped  them  in  such  a  way  as  to  keep  us  as  dry  as  pos 
sible,  and  tried  to  cheer  the  girl  up  by  saying  that  this 
wasn't  bad,  and  that  it  would  soon  be  over.  In  half  an 
hour  the  rain  ceased,  and  in  an  hour  the  sun  was  shining 
again,  and  across  the  eastern  heavens  there  was  dis 
played  a  beautiful  double  rainbow,  and  a  faint  trace  of  a 
third. 

"That  means  hope,"  I  said. 

She  looked  at  the  wonderful  rainbow  and  smiled  a 
little  half-smile. 

"It  doesn't  mean  hope,"  said  she,  "unless  you  can 
think  out  some  way  of  throwing  that  man  off  our  track." 

"Oh,"  I  answered,  with  the  brag  that  a  man  likes  to 
use  when  a  helpless  woman  throws  herself  on  his  re 
sources,  "I'll  find  some  way  if  I  make  up  my  mind  I 
don't  want  to  fight  them." 

"You  mustn't  think  of  that,"  said  she.  "You  are  too 
smart  to  be  so  foolish.  See  how  well  you  answered  the 
questions  of  that  man  and  woman." 

"And  I  didn't  lie,  either,"  said  I,  after  getting  under 
way  again. 

"Wouldn't  you  lie,"  said  she,  "for  me?" 

It  was,  I  suppose,  only  a  little  womanly  probe  into 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  173 

character ;  but  it  thrilled  me  in  a  way  the  poor  girl  could 
not  have  supposed  possible. 

"I  would  do  anything  for  you,"  said  I  boldly;  "but 
I'd  a  lot  rather  fight  than  lie." 


The  cloud-burst  had  flooded  the  swales,  and  across 
the  hollows  ran  broad  sheets  of  racing  water.  I  had 
crossed  two  or  three  of  these,  wondering  whether  I 
should  be  able  to  ford  the  next  real  watercourse,  when 
we  came  to  a  broad  bottom  down  the  middle  of  which  ran 
a  swift  shallow  stream  which  rose  over  the  young  grass. 
For  a  few  rods  the  road  ran  directly  down  this  casual 
river  of  flood  water,  and  as  I  looked  back  it  all  at  once 
came  into  my  mind  that  I  might  follow  this  flood  and 
leave  no  track ;  so  instead  of  swinging  back  into  the  road 
I  took  instantly  the  important  resolution  to  leave  the 
Ridge.  By  voice  and  whip  I  turned  my  cattle  down  the 
stream  to  the  south,  and  for  a  mile  I  drove  in  water  half- 
hub  deep. 

Looking  back  I  saw  that  I  left  no  trace  except  where 
two  lines  of  open  water  showed  through  the  grass  on  the 
high  spots  where  cattle  and  wheels  had  passed,  and  I 
knew  that  in  an  hour  the  flood  would  run  itself  off  and 
wipe  out  even  this  trace.  I  felt  a  sense  of  triumph,  and 
mingled  with  this  was  a  queer  thrill  that  set  my  hands 
trembling  at  the  consciousness  that  the  prairie  had  closed 
about  me  and  this  girl  with  the  milk-white  neck  and  the 
fire  in  her  hair  who  had  asked  me  if  I  would  not  even 
lie  "for  her." 

We  wound  down  the  flooded  swale,  we  left  the 
Ridge  Road  quite  out  of  sight,  we  finally  drew  up  out  of 


174  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

the  hollow  and  took  to  the  ridges  and  hog-backs  making 
a  new  Ridge  Road  for  ourselves.  Nowhere  in  sight  was 
there  the  slightest  trace  of  humanity  or  human  settle 
ment.  We  were  alone.  Still  bearing  south  I  turned 
westwardly,  after  rolling  up  the  covers  to  let  in  the  dry 
ing  wind.  I  kept  looking  back  to  see  if  we  were  followed ; 
for  now  I  was  suddenly  possessed  of  the  impulse  to  hide, 
like  a  thief  making  for  cover  with  stolen  goods.  Vir 
ginia,  wearied  out  with  the  journey,  the  strain  of  her 
escape,  and  the  nervous  tension,  was  lying  on  the  couch, 
often  asking  me  if  I  saw  any  one  coming  up  from  behind. 

The  country  was  getting  more  rolling  and  broken  as 
we  made  our  way  down  toward  the  Cedar  River,  or 
some  large  creek  making  into  it — but,  of  course,  journey 
ing  without  a  map  or  chart  I  knew  nothing  about  the  lay 
of  the  land  or  the  watercourses.  I  knew,  though,  that  I 
was  getting  into  the  breaks  of  a  stream.  Finally,  in  the 
gathering  dusk  I  saw  ahead  of  me  the  rounded  crowns  of 
trees ;  and  pretty  soon  we  entered  one  of  those  beautiful 
groves  of  hardwood  timber  that  were  found  at  wide  dis 
tances  along  the  larger  prairie  streams — I  remember 
many  of  them  and  their  names,  Buck  Grove,  Cole's 
Grove,  Fifteen  Mile  Grove,  Hickory  Grove,  Crabapple 
Grove,  Marble's  Grove,  but  I  never  knew  the  name  of 
this,  the  shelter  toward  which  we  had  been  making.  I 
drove  in  between  scattered  burr  oaks  like  those  of  the 
Wisconsin  oak  openings,  and  stopped  my  cattle  in  an 
open  space  densely  sheltered  by  thickets  of  crabapple, 
plum  and  black-haw,  and  canopied  by  two  spreading 
elms.  Virginia  started  up,  ran  to  the  front  of  the  wagon 
and  looked  about. 

"Where  are  we?"  she  asked. 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  175 

"This  is  our  hiding-place,"  I  replied. 

"But  that  man — won't  he  follow  our  tracks?" 

"We  didn't  leave  any  tracks,"  I  said. 

"How  could  we  come  without  leaving  tracks?"  she 
queried,  standing  close  to  me  and  looking  up  into  my 
face. 

"Did  you  notice,"  said  I,  "that  for  miles  we  droTe  in 
the  water — back  there  on  the  prairie  after  the  rain?" 

"Yes." 

"We  drove  in  the  water  when  we  left  the  road,  and 
we  left  no  tracks.  Not  even  an  Indian  could  track  us. 
We  can't  be  tracked.  We've  lost  Gowdy — forever." 

I  thought  at  first  that  she  was  going  to  throw  her 
arms  about  my  neck ;  but  instead  she  took  both  my  hands 
and  pressed  them  in  a  long  clasp.  It  was  the  first  time 
she  had  touched  me,  or  shown  emotion  toward  me — emo 
tion  of  the  sort  for  which  I  was  now  eagerly  longing.  I 
did  not  return  her  pressure.  I  merely  let  her  hold  my 
hands  until  she  dropped  them.  I  wanted  to  do  a  dozen 
things,  but  there  is  nothing  stronger  than  the  unbroken 
barriers  of  a  boy's  modesty — barriers  strong  as  steel, 
which  once  broken  down  become  as  though  they  never 
were ;  while  a  woman  even  in  her  virgin  innocence,  is  al 
ways  offering  unconscious  invitation,  always  revealing 
ways  of  seeming  approach,  always  giving  to  the  stalled 
boy  arguments  against  his  bashfulness — arguments 
which  may  prove  absurd  or  not  when  he  acts  upon  them. 
It  is  the  way  of  a  maid  with  a  man,  Nature's  way — but 
a  perilous  way  for  such  a  time  and  such  a  situation. 

That  night  we  sat  about  the  tiny  camp-fire  and 
talked.  She  told  me  of  her  life  in  Kentucky,  of  her  grief 
at  the  loss  of  her  sister,  of  many  simple  things ;  and  I 


176  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

told  her  of  my  farm — a  mile  square — of  my  plans,  of  my 
life  on  the  canal — which  seemed  to  impress  her  as  it  had 
Rowena  Fewkes  as  a  very  adventurous  career.  I  was 
sure  she  was  beginning  to  like  me;  but  of  one  thing  I 
did  not  tell  her.  I  did  not  mention  my  long  unavailing 
search  for  my  mother,  nor  the  worn  shoe  and  the  sad 
farewell  letter  in  the  little  iron-bound  trunk  in  the  wagon. 
I  searched  for  tales  which  would  make  of  me  a  man ;  but 
when  it  grew  dark  I  put  out  the  fire.  I  was  not  afraid 
of  Buck  Gowdy's  finding  us ;  but  I  did  not  want  any  one 
to  discover  us.  And  that  night  I  drew  out  the  loads  of 
chicken  shot  from  my  gun  and  reloaded  it  with  buckshot. 
I  could  not  sleep.  After  Virginia  had  lain  down  in 
the  wagon,  I  walked  about  silently  so  as  not  to  rouse  her, 
prowling  like  a  wolf.  I  crept  to  the  side  of  the  wagon 
and  listened  for  her  breathing;  and  when  I  heard  it  my 
hands  trembled,  and  my  heart  pounded  in  my  breast.  All 
the  things  through  which  I  had  lived  without  partaking 
of  them  came  back  into  my  mind.  I  thought  of  what  I 
heard  every  day  on  the  canal — that  all  women  were 
alike;  that  they  existed  only  for  that  sort  of  companion 
ship  with  men  with  which  my  eyes  were  so  ignorantly 
familiar;  that  all  their  protestations  and  refusals  were 
for  effect  only ;  that  a  man  need  only  to  be  a  man,  to 
know  what  he  wanted,  and  conquer  it.  And  I  felt  rising 
in  me  like  a  tide  the  feeling  that  I  was  now  a  man.  The 
reader  who  has  believed  of  me  that  I  passed  through 
that  canal  life  unspotted  by  its  vileness  has  asked  too 
much  of  me.  The  thing  was  not  possible.  I  now 
thought  of  the  irregular  companionships  of  that  old  time 
as  inexplicable  no  longer.  They  were  the  things  for 
which  men  lived — the  inevitable  things  for  every  real 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  177 

man.  Only  this  which  agitated  me  so  terribly  was  dif 
ferent  from  them — no  matter  what  happened,  it  would 
be  pure  and  blameless — for  it  would  be  us ! 


I  suppose  it  may  have  been  midnight  or  after,  when 
I  heard  a  far-off  splashing  sound  in  the  creek  far  above 
us.  At  first  I  thought  of  buffalo — though  there  were 
none  in  Iowa  so  far  as  I  knew  at  that  time — and  only  a 
few  deer  or  bear;  but  finally,  as  the  sound,  which  was 
clearly  that  of  much  wading,  drew  even  with  my  camp,  I 
began  to  hear  the  voices  of  men — low  voices,  as  if  even 
in  that  wilderness  the  speakers  were  afraid  of  being 
overheard. 

"I'm  always  lookin'/'  said  one,  "to  find  some  of  these 
damned  movers  campin'  in  here  when  we  come  in  with  a 
raise." 

"If  I  find  any,"  said  another,  "they  will  be  nepoed, 
damned  quick." 

This,  I  knew — I  had  heard  plenty  of  it — was  the 
lingo  of  thieves  and  what  the  story-writers  call  bandits — 
though  we  never  knew  until  years  afterward  that  we  had 
in  Iowa  a  distinct  class  which  we  should  have  called  ban 
dits,  but  knew  it  not.  They  stole  horses,  dealt  in  coun 
terfeit  money,  and  had  scattered  all  over  the  West  from 
Ohio  to  the  limits  of  civilization  a  great  number  of 
"stations"  as  they  called  them  where  any  man  "of  the 
right  stripe"  might  hide  either  himself  or  his  unlawful 
or  stolen  goods.  "A  raise"  was  stolen  property.  "A 
sight"  was  a  prospect  for  a  robbery,  and  to  commit  it 
was,  to  "raise  the  sight,"  or  if  it  was  a  burglary  or  a 
highway  robbery,  the  man  robbed  was  "raked  down." 


178  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

A  man  killed  was  "nepoed" — a  word  which  many  new 
settlers  in  Wisconsin  got  from  the  Indians.* 

In  a  country  in  which  horses  constitute  the  means  of 
communication,  the  motive  power  for  the  farm  and  the 
most  easily  marketable  form  of  property,  the  stealing  of 
horses  was  the  commonest  sort  of  crime ;  and  where  the 
population  was  so  sparse  and  unorganized,  and  unpro 
vided  with  means  of  sending  news  abroad,  horse-steal 
ing,  offering  as  it  did  to  the  criminally  inclined  a  ready 
way  of  making  an  easy  living,  gradually  grew  into  an 
occupation  which  flourished,  extended  into  other  forms 
of  crime,  had  its  connections  with  citizens  who  were  sup 
posed  to  be  honest,  entered  our  politics,  and  finally  was 
the  cause  of  a  terrible  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  Monterey 
County,  and,  indeed,  of  other  counties  in  Iowa  as  well  as 
in  Illinois. 

I  softly  reached  for  my  shotgun,  and  then  lay  very 
quiet,  hoping  that  the  band  would  pass  our  camp  by. 
There  were  three  men  as  I  made  them  out,  each  riding 
one  horse  and  leading  another.  They  had  evidently 
made  their  way  into  the  creek  at  some  point  higher  up, 
and  were  wading  down-stream  so  as  to  leave  no  trail. 
Cursing  as  their  mounts  plunged  into  the  deep  holes  in 
the  high  water,  calling  one  another  and  their  steeds  the 
vilest  of  names  seemingly  as  a  matter  of  ordinary  con 
versation,  they  went  on  down-stream  and  out  of  hear 
ing.  It  did  not  take  long  for  even  my  slow  mind  to  see 
that  they  had  come  to  this  grove  as  I  had  done,  for  the 


*This  bit  of  frontier  argot  was  rather  common  in  the  West 
in  the  'fifties.  The  reappearance  in  the  same  sense  of  "napoo" 
for  death  in  the  armies  of  the  Allies  in  France  is  a  little  sur 
prising. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  179 

purpose  of  hiding,  nor  to  realize  that  it  might  be  very 
unsafe  for  us  to  be  detected  in  any  discovery  of  these 
men  in  possession  of  whatever  property  they  might  have 
seized.  It  did  not  seem  probable  that  we  should  be 
"nepoed" — but,  after  all,  why  not?  Dead  men  tell  no 
tales,  cattle  as  well  as  merchandise  were  salable;  and  as 
for  Virginia,  I  could  hardly  bring  myself  to  look  in  the 
face  the  dangers  to  which  she  might  be  exposed  in  this 
worst  case  which  I  found  myself  conjuring  up. 

I  listened  intently  for  any  sound  of  the  newcomers, 
but  everything  was  as  silent  as  it  had  been  before  they 
had  passed  like  evil  spirits  of  the  night;  and  from  this 
fact  I  guessed  that  they  had  made  camp  farther  down 
stream  among  the  trees.  I  stepped  to  the  back  of  the 
wagon,  and  putting  in  my  hand  I  touched  the  girl's  hair. 
She  took  my  hand  in  hers,  and  then  dropped  it. 

".What  is  it?"  she  whispered. 

"Don't  be  scared,"  I  said,  "but  be  very  still.  Some 
men  just  went  by,  and  I'm  afraid  they  are  bad." 

"Is  it  that  man?"  she  asked. 

"No,"  said  I,  "strangers — bad  characters.  I  want 
them  to  go  on  without  knowing  we're  here." 

She  seemed  rather  relieved  at  that,  and  told  me  that 
she  was  not  frightened.  Then  she  asked  me  where  they 
went.  I  told  her,  and  said  that  when  it  got  lighter  I 
meant  to  creep  after  them  and  see  if  they  were  still  in  the 
grove, 

"Don't  leave  me,"  said  she.  "I  reckon  I'm  a  little 
frightened,  after  all,  and  it's  very  lonesome  in  here  all 
alone.  Please  get  into  the  wagon  with  me !" 

I  said  nothing.  Instead  I  sat  for  some  time  on  the 
wagon-tongue  and  asked  myself  what  I  should  do,  and 


180  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

what  she  meant  by  this  invitation.  At  last  I  started  up, 
and  trembling  like  a  man  climbing  the  gallows,  I  climbed 
into  the  wagon.  There,  sitting  in  the  spring  seat  in  the 
gown  she  had  worn  yesterday,  with  her  little  shoes  on 
the  dashboard,  sat  Virginia  trying  to  wrap  herself  in  the 
buffalo-robe. 

I  folded  it  around  her  and  took  my  seat  by  her  side. 
With  scarcely  a  whisper  between  us  we  sat  there  and 
watched  the  stars  wheel  over  to  the  west  and  down  to 
their  settings.  At  last  I  felt  her  leaning  over  against  my 
shoulder,  and  found  that  she  was  asleep ;  and  softly  put 
ting  my  arms  about  her  outside  the  warm  buffalo-robe,  I 
held  her  sleeping  like  a  baby  until  the  shrill  roundelays  of 
the  meadow-larks  told  me  it  was  morning. 

Then  after  taking  away  my  arms  I  awakened  her. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  GROVE  OF  DESTINY  DOES   ITS  WORK 

\  7IRGINIA  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled  at  me.  I 
V  think  this  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  given  me 
more  than  just  a  trace  of  a  smile ;  but  now  she  smiled,  a 
very  sweet  winning  smile ;  and  getting  spryly  out  of  the 
wagon  she  said  that  she  had  been  a  lazy  and  useless 
passenger  all  the  time  she  had  been  with  me,  and  that 
from  then  on  she  was  going  to  do  the  cooking.  I  told 
her  that  I  wasn't  going  to  let  her  do  it,  that  I  was  strong 
and  liked  to  cook ;  and  I  stammered  and  blundered  when 
I  tried  to  hint  that  I  liked  cooking  for  her.  She  looked 
very  dense  at  this  and  insisted  that  I  should  build  the 
fire,  and  show  her  where  the  things  were ;  and  when  I 
had  done  so  she  pinned  back  her  skirts  and  went  about 
the  work  in  a  way  that  threw  me  into  a  high  fever. 

"You  may  bring  the  new  milk,"  said  she,  "and  by  that 
time  I'll  have  a  fine  breakfast  for  you." 

When  the  milk  was  brought,  breakfast  was  still  a 
little  behindhand,  but  she  would  not  let  me  help.  Any 
how,  I  felt  in  spite  of  my  talk  that  I  wanted  to  do  some 
other  sort  of  service  for  her:  I  wanted  to  show  off,  to 
prove  myself  a  protector,  to  fight  for  her,  to  knock  down 
or  drive  off  her  foes  and  mine;  and  as  I  saw  the  light 
smoke  curling  up  through  the  tree-tops  I  asked  myself 
where  those  men  were  who  had  made  their  way  past  us 

181 


182  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

in  such  a  dark  and  secret  sort  of  way  and  with  so  much 
bad  talk  back  there  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  I  won 
dered  if  they  had  camped  where  they  could  see  the  smoke 
of  our  fire,  or  hear  our  voices  or  the  other  sounds  we 
made. 

I  almost  wished  that  they  might.  I  had  now  in 
a  dim,  determined,  stubborn  way  claimed  this  girl  in  my 
heart  for  my  own ;  and  I  felt  without  really  thinking  of 
it,  that  I  could  best  foreclose  my  lien  by  defeating  all 
comers  before  I  dragged  her  yielding  to  my  cave.  It 
is  the  way  of  all  male  animals — except  spiders,  perhaps, 
and  bees — and  a  male  animal  was  all  that  I  was  that 
morning.  I  picked  up  my  gun  and  told  her  that  I  must 
find  out  where  those  men  were  before  breakfast. 

"No,  no !"  said  she  anxiously,  "don't  leave  me !  They 
might  shoot  you — and — then — " 

I  smiled  disdainfully. 

"If  there's  any  shooting  to  be  done,  I'll  shoot  first. 
I  won't  let  them  see  me,  though;  but  I  must  find  out 
what  they  are  up  to.  Wait  and  keep  quiet.  I'll  soon 
be  back." 

I  knew  that  I  should  find  their  horses'  hoof-marks  at 
whatever  place  they  had  left  the  stream ;  and  I  followed 
the  brook  silently,  craftily  and  slowly,  like  a  hunter 
trailing  a  wild  beast,  examining  the  bank  of  soft  black 
rooty  earth  for  their  tracks.  Once  or  twice  I  passed 
across  open  spaces  in  the  grove.  Here  I  crept  on  my 
belly  through  the  brush  and  weeds  shoving  my  gun  along 
ahead  of  my  body. 

My  heart  beat  high.  I  never  for  a  moment  doubted 
the  desperate  character  of  the  men,  and  in  this  I  think 
I  showed  good  judgment;  for  what  honest  horsemen 


THE  GROVE  DOES  ITS  WORK  183 

would  have  left  the  Ridge  Road,  or  if  any  honest 
purpose  had  drawn  them  away,  what  honest  men  would 
have  forced  their  horses  to  wade  in  the  channel  of  a  swol 
len  stream  in  the  middle  of  the  night?  They  must  have 
been  trying  to  travel  without  leaving  tracks,  just  as  I  had 
done.  Their  talk  showed  them  to  be  bad  characters,  and 
their  fox-like  actions  proved  the  case  against  them.  So  I 
crawled  forward  believing  fully  that  I  should  be  in 
danger  if  they  once  found  out  that  I  had  uncovered  their 
lurking-place.  I  carefully  kept  from  making  any  thrash 
ing  or  swishing  of  boughs,  any  crackling  of  twigs,  or 
from  walking  with  a  heavy  footfall ;  and  I  wondered  more 
and  more  as  I  neared  what  I  knew  must  be  the  other 
end  of  the  grove,  why  they  had  not  left  the  water  and 
made  camp.  For  what  other  purpose  had  they  come 
to  this  patch  of  woods? 

At  last  I  heard  the  stamping  of  horses,  and  I  lay 
still  for  a  \vhile  and  peered  all  about  me  for  signs  of  the 
animals  or  their  possessors.  I  moved  slowly,  then, 
so  as  to  bring  first  this  open  space  in  line  with  my  eyes, 
and  then  that,  until,  crawling  like  a  lizard,  I  found  my 
men.  They  were  lying  on  the  ground,  wrapped  in 
blankets,  all  asleep,  very  near  the  other  end  of  the  grove. 
In  the  last  open  spot  of  the  timber,  screened  from  view 
from  the  prairie  by  clumps  of  willows  and  other  bushes, 
were  six  horses,  picketed  for  grazing.  There  were  two 
grays,  a  black,  two  bays  and  a  chestnut  sorrel — the  latter 
clearly  a  race-horse.  They  were  all  good  horses.  There 
were  rifles  leaning  against  the  trees  within  reach  of  the 
sleeping  men ;  and  from  under  the  coat  which  one  of  them 
was  using  for  a  pillow  there  stuck  out  the  butt  of  a  navy 
revolver. 


184  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Something — perhaps  it  was  that  consciousness  which 
horses  have  of  the  approach  of  other  beings,  scent,  hear 
ing,  or  a  sense  of  their  own  which  we  can  not  understand 
— made  the  chestnut  race-horse  lift  his  head  and  nicker. 
One  of  the  men  rose  silently  to  a  sitting  posture,  and 
reached  for  his  rifle.  For  a  moment  he  seemed  to  be 
looking  right  at  me ;  but  his  eyes  passed  on,  and  he  care 
fully  examined  every  bit  of  foliage  and  every  ant-hill  and 
grass-mound,  and  all  the  time  he  strained  his  ears  for 
sounds.  I  held  my  breath.  At  last  he  lay  down  again ; 
but  in  a  few  minutes  he  got  up,  and  woke  the  others. 

This  was  my  first  sight  of  Bowie  Bushyager.  Every 
body  in  Monterey  County,  and  lots  of  other  people  will 
remember  what  the  name  of  Bowie  Bushyager  once 
meant;  but  it  meant  very  little  more  than  that  of  his 
brother,  Pitt  Bushyager,  who  got  up,  grumbling  and  curs 
ing  when  Bowie  shook  him  awake.  Bowie  was  say  twen 
ty-eight  then,  and  a  fine  specimen  of  a  man  in  build  and 
size.  He  was  six  feet  high,  had  a  black  beard  which 
curled  about  his  face,  and  except  for  his  complexion, 
which  was  almost  that  of  an  Indian,  his  dead-black  eye 
into  which  you  could  see  no  farther  than  into  a  bullet, 
and  for  the  pitting  of  his  face  by  smallpox,  he  would  have 
been  handsome. 

"Shut  up!"  said  he  to  his  brother  Pitt.  "It's  time 
we're  gittin'  our  grub  and  pullin'  out." 

Pitt  was  even  taller  than  Bowie,  and  under  twenty- 
five  in  years.  His  face  was  smooth-shaven  except  for  a 
short,  curly  black  mustache  and  a  little  goatee  under  his 
mouth.  His  eyes  were  larger  than  Bowie's  and  deep 
brown,  his  hair  curled  down  over  his  rolling  collar,  and 
he  moved  with  an  air  of  ease  and  grace  that  were  in  con- 


THE  GROVE  DOES  ITS  WORK  185 

trast  with  the  slow  power  of  Bowie.  There  was  no  doubt 
of  it — Pitt  Bushyager  was  handsome  in  a  rough,  daredevil 
sort  of  way. 

I  am  describing  them,  not  from  the  memory  of  that 
morning,  but  because  I  knew  them  well  afterward.  I 
knew  all  the  Bushyager  boys,  and  their  father  and  mother 
and  sisters ;  and  in  spite  of  everything,  I  rather  liked 
both  Pitt  and  Claib.  Bowie  was  a  forbidding  fellow,  and 
Asher,  who  was  between  Bowie  and  Pitt  in  age,  while  he 
was  as  big  and  strong  as  any  of  them,  was  the  gentlest 
man  I  ever  saw  in  his  manners.  He  did  more  of  the  plan 
ning  than  Bowie  did.  Claiborne  Bushyager  was  about  my 
own  age ;  while  Forrest  was  older  than  Bowie.  He  was 
always  able  to  convince  people  that  he  was  not  a  mem 
ber  of  the  gang,  and  now,  an  old  white-haired,  soft- 
spoken  man,  still  owns  the  original  Bushyager  farm,  with 
two  hundred  acres  added,  where  I  must  confess  he  has 
always  made  enough  money  by  good  farming  to  account 
for  all  the  property  he  has. 

These  men  were  an  important  factor  in  the  history  of 
Monterey  County  for  many  years,  and  I  knew  all  of  them 
well ;  but  had  they  known  that  I  saw  them  that  morning 
in  the  grove  I  guess  I  should  not  have  lived  to  write  this 
history;  though  it  was  years  before  the  people  came  to 
believing  such  things  of  them.  The  third  man  in  the 
grove  I  never  saw  again.  Judging  from  what  we  learned 
afterward,  I  think  it  is  safe  to  say  that  this  Unknown 
was  one  of  the  celebrated  Bunker  gang  of  bandits,  whose 
headquarters  were  on  the  Iowa  River  somewhere  between 
Eldora  and  Steamboat  Rock,  in  Hardin  County.  He  was 
a  small  man  with  light  hair  and  eyes,  and  kept  both  the 
Bushyagers  on  one  side  of  him  all  the  time  I  had  them  in 


186  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

view.  When  he  spoke  it  was  almost  in  a  whisper,  and 
he  kept  darting  sharp  glances  from  side  to  side  all  the 
time,  and  especially  at  the  Bushyagers.  When  they  left 
he  rode  the  black  horse  and  led  one  of  the  grays.  I  know, 
because  I  crept  back  to  my  own  camp,  took  my  breakfast 
with  Virginia,  and  then  spied  on  the  Bushyagers  until 
dinner-time.  After  dinner  I  still  found  them  there  argu 
ing  about  the  policy  of  starting  on  or  waiting  until  night. 
Bowie  wanted  to  start ;  but  finally  the  little  light-haired 
man  had  his  way ;  and  they  melted  away  across  the  knolls 
to  the  west  just  after  sunset.  I  returned  with  all  the  air 
of  having  driven  them  off,  and  ate  my  third  meal  cooked 
by  Virginia  Royall. 

2 

I  do  not  know  how  long  we  camped  in  this  lonely 
little  forest;  for  I  lost  reckoning  as  to  time.  Once  in 
a  while  Virginia  would  ask  me  when  I  thought  it  would 
be  safe  to  go  on  our  way ;  and  I  always  told  her  that  it 
would  be  better  to  wait. 

I  had  forgotten  my  farm.  When  I  was  with  her,  I 
could  not  overcome  my  bashfulness,  my  lack  of  experi 
ence,  my  ignorance  of  every  manner  of  approach  except 
that  of  the  canallers  to  the  water-side  women,  with  which 
I  suddenly  found  myself  as  familiar  through  memory 
as  with  the  route  from  my  plate  to  my  mouth ;  that  way 
I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  to  adopt;  but  something 
held  me  back. 

I  now  began  leaving  the  camp  and  from  some  lurking- 
place  in  the  distance  watching  her  as  a  cat  watches  a 
bird.  I  lived  over  in  my  mind  a  thousand  times  the 
attack  I  would  make  upon  her  defense,  and  her  yielding 
after  a  show  of  resistance.  I  became  convinced  at  last 


THE  GROVE  DOES  ITS  WORK  187 

that  she  would  not  make  even  a  show  of  resistance ;  that 
she  was  probably  wondering  what  I  was  waiting  for, 
and  making  up  her  mind  that,  after  all,  I  was  not  much 
of  a  man. 

I  saw  her  one  evening,  after  looking  about  to  see  if 
she  was  observed,  take  off  her  stockings  and  go  wading 
in  the  deep  cool  water  of  the  creek — and  I  lay  awake  at 
night  wondering  whether,  after  all,  she  had  not  known 
that  I  was  watching  her,  and  had  so  acted  for  my 
benefit — and  then  I  left  my  tossed  couch  and  creeping 
to  the  side  of  the  wagon  listened,  trembling  in  every 
limb,  with  my  ear  to  the  canvas  until  I  was  able  to  make 
out  her  regular  breathing  only  a  few  inches  from  my 
ear.  And  when  in  going  away — as  I  always  did,  fi 
nally — I  made  a  little  noise  which  awakened  her,  she 
called  and  asked  me  if  I  had  heard  anything,  I  said  no,  and 
pacified  her  by  saying  that  I  had  been  awake  and  watch 
ing  all  the  time.  Then  I  despised  myself  for  saying  noth 
ing  more. 

I  constantly  found  myself  despising  my  own  decency. 
I  felt  the  girl  in  my  arms  a  thousand  times  as  I  had 
felt  her  for  those  delicious  hours  the  night  she  had 
invited  me  to  share  the  wagon  with  her,  and  we  had  sat 
in  the  spring  seat  wrapped  in  the  buffalo-robe,  as  she 
slept  with  her  head  on  my  shoulder.  I  tormented  myself 
by  asking  if  she  had  really  slept,  or  only  pretended  to 
sleep.  Once  away  from  her,  once  freed  from  the  inno 
cent  look  in  her  eyes,  I  saw  in  her  behavior  that  night 
every  advance  which  any  real  man  might  have  looked  for, 
as  a  signal  to  action.  Why  had  I  not  used  my  opportunity 
to  make  her  love  me — to  force  from  her  the  confession 
of  her  love  ?  Had  I  not  failed,  not  only  in  doing  what  I 


i88  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

would  have  given  everything  I  possessed  or  ever  hoped 
to  possess  to  have  been  able  to  do ;  but  also  had  I  not 
failed  in  that  immemorial  duty  which  man  owes  to  woman, 
and  which  she  had  expected  of  me  ?  Would  she  not  laugh 
at  me  with  some  more  forceful  man  when  she  had  found 
him?  Was  she  not  scorning  me  even  now? 

I  had  heard  women  talk  of  greenhorns  and  backwoods 
boys  in  those  days  when  I  had  lived  a  life  in  which  wom 
en  played  an  important,  a  disturbing,  and  a  baleful  part 
for  every  one  but  the  boy  who  lived  his  strange  life  on  the 
tow-path  or  in  the  rude  cabin;  and  now  these  outcast 
women  came  back  to  me  and  through  the  very  memories 
of  them  poisoned  and  corrupted  my  nature.  They  peopled 
my  dreams,  with  their  loud  voices,  their  drunkenness, 
their  oaths,  their  obscenities,  their  lures,  their  tricks, 
their  awful  counterfeit  of  love ;  and,  a  figure  apart  from 
them  in  these  dreams,  partaking  of  their  nature  only  so 
far  as  I  desired  to  have  it  so,  walked  Virginia  Royall, 
who  had  come  to  me  across  the  prairie  to  escape  a  life 
with  Buckner  Gowdy.  But  to  the  meaning  of  this  fact  I 
shut  the  eye  of  my  mind.  I  was  I,  and  Gowdy  was 
Gowdy.  It  was  no  time  for  thought.  Every  moment  I 
pressed  closer  and  closer  to  that  action  which  I  was  sure 
would  have  been  taken  by  Eben  Sproule,  or  Bill  the 
Sailor — the  only  real  friends  I  had  ever  possessed. 

We  used  to  go  fishing  along  the  creek ;  and  ate  many 
a  savory  mess  of  bullheads,  sunfish  and  shiners,  which  I 
prepared  and  cooked.  We  had  butter,  and  the  cows,  eased 
of  the  labors  of  travel,  grew  sleek  and  round,  and  gave  us 
plenty  of  milk.  I  saved  for  Virginia  all  the  eggs  laid  by 
my  hens,  except  those  used  by  her  in  the  cooking.  She 
gave  me  the  daintiest  of  meals ;  and  I  taught  her  to  make 


THE  GROVE  DOES  ITS  WORK  189 

bread.  To  see  her  molding  it  with  her  strong  small  hands, 
was  enough  to  have  made  me  insane  if  I  had  had  any 
sense  left.  She  showed  me  how  to  make  vinegar  pies  ;  and 
I  failed  in  my  pies  made  of  the  purple-flowered  prairie 
oxalis ;  but  she  triumphed  over  me  by  using  the  deliciously 
acid  leaves  as  a  flavoring  for  sandwiches — we  were 
getting  our  first  experience  as  prairie-dwellers  in  being 
deprived  of  the  common  vegetable  foods  of  the  garden 
and  forest.  One  day  I  cooked  a  delicious  mess  of  cowslip 
greens  with  a  ham-bone.  She  seemed  to  be  happy ;  and 
I  should  have  been  if  I  had  not  made  myself  so  miserable. 
I  remember  almost  every  moment  of  this  time — so  long 
ago. 

One  day  as  we  were  fishing  we  were  obliged  to 
clamber  along  the  bank  where  a  tree  crowded  us  so  far 
over  the  water  that  Virginia,  in  stooping  to  pass  under  the 
body  of  the  tree,  was  about  to  fall ;  and  I  jumped  down 
into  the  stream  and  caught  her  in  my  arms  as  she  was 
losing  her  hold.  I  found  her  arms  about  my  neck  as  she 
clung  to  me;  and,  standing  in  the  water,  I  turned  her 
about  in  my  arms,  rather  roughly  of  necessity,  caught 
one  arm  about  her  waist  and  the  other  under  the  hollows 
of  her  knees  and  held  her  so. 

"Don't  let  me  fall,"  she  begged. 

"I  won't,''  I  said — and  I  could  say  no  more. 

"You've  got  your  feet  all  wet,"  said  she. 

"I  don't  care,"  I  said — and  stopped. 

"How  clumsy  of  me !"  she  exclaimed. 

"It  was  a  hard  place  to  get  around,"  said  I. 

"I  hope  you  didn't  lose  the  fish,"  said  she. 

"No,"  said  I,  "I  dropped  the  string  of  them  in  the 
grass." 


igo  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Now  this  conversation  lasted  a  second,  from  one  way 
of  looking  at  it,  and  a  very  long  time  from  another ;  and 
all  the  time  I  was  standing  there,  knee-deep  in  the  water, 
with  Virginia's  arms  about  my  neck,  her  cheek  almost 
against  mine,  one  of  my  arms  about  her  waist  and  the 
other  under  the  hollows  of  her  knees — and  I  had  made  no 
movement  for  putting  her  ashore. 

"You're  very  strong,"  said  she,  "or  you  would  have 
dropped  me  in  the  water." 

"Oh,"  said  I,  "that's  nothing"— and  I  pressed  her 
closer. 

"How  will  you  get  me  back  on  land  ?"  she  asked ;  and 
really  it  was  a  subject  which  one  might  have  expected  to 
come  up  sooner  or  later. 

1  turned  about  with  her  and  looked  down-stream  ;  then 
I  turned  back  and  looked  up-stream ;  then  I  looked  across 
to  the  opposite  bank,  at  least  six  feet  away ;  then  I  carried 
her  up-stream  for  a  few  yards ;  then  I  started  back  down 
stream. 

"There's  no  good  place  there,"  said  I — and  I  looked  a 
long,  long  look  into  her  eyes  which  happened  to  be  scan 
ning  my  face  just  then.  She  blushed  rosily. 

"Any  place  will  do,"  she  said.  "Let  me  down  right 
here  where  I  can  get  the  fish !" 

And  slowly,  reluctantly,  with  great  pains  that  she 
should  not  be  scratched  by  briars,  bitten  by  snakes, 
brushed  by  poison-ivy,  muddied  by  the  wet  bank,  or 
threatened  with  another  fall,  I  put  her  down.  She  looked 
diligently  in  the  grass  for  the  fish,  picked  them  up,  and 
ran  off  to  camp.  After  she  had  disappeared,  I  heard  the 
bushes  rustle,  and  looked  up  as  I  sat  on  the  bank  wringing 
the  water  from  my  socks  and  pouring  it  from  my  boots. 


'Don't  let  me  fall,"  she  begged 


THE  GROVE  DOES  ITS  WORK  191 

"Thank  you  for  keeping  me  dry,"  said  she.  "You 
did  it  very  nicely.  And  now  you  must  stay  in  the  wagon 
while  I  dry  your  socks  and  boots  for  you — you  poor  wet 
boy!" 

3 

She  had  not  objected  to  my  holding  her  so  long ;  she 
rather  seemed  to  like  it ;  she  seemed  willing  to  go  on 
camping  here  as  long  as  I  wished ;  she  was  wondering 
why  I  was  so  backward  and  so  bashful ;  she  was  in  my 
hands;  why  hold  back?  Why  not  use  my  power?  If  I 
did  not  I  should  make  myself  forever  ridiculous  to  all 
men  and  to  all  women — who,  according  to  my  experience, 
were  never  in  higher  feather  than  when  ridiculing  some 
greenhorn  of  a  boy.  This  thing  must  end.  My  affair 
with  Virginia  must  be  brought  to  a  crisis  and  pushed  to 
a  decision.  At  once ! 

I  wandered  off  again  and  from  my  vantage-point  I 
began  to  watch  her  and  gather  courage  from  watching 
her.  I  could  still  feel  her  in  my  arms — so  much  more  of 
a  woman  than  I  had  at  first  suspected  from  seeing  her 
about  the  camp.  I  could  see  her  in  my  mind's  eye  wading 
the  stream  like  a  beautiful  ghost.  I  could  think  of  noth 
ing  but  her  all  the  time, — of  her  and  the  wild  life  of  boats 
and  backwoods  harbors. 

And  at  last  I  grew  suddenly  calm.  I  began  to  laugh 
at  myself  for  my  lack  of  decision.  I  would  carefully  con 
sider  the  matter,  and  that  night  I  would  act. 

I  took  my  gun  and  wandered  off  across  the  prairie 
after  a  few  birds  for  our  larder.  There  were  upland 
plover  in  great  plenty ;  and  before  I  had  been  away  from 
the  camp  fifteen  minutes  I  had  several  in  my  pockets.  It 
was  early  in  the  afternoon ;  but  instead  of  walking  back 


IQ2  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

to  camp  at  once  I  sat  down  on  a  mound  at  the  mouth  of 
the  old  den  of  a  wolf  or  badger  and  laid  my  plans ;  much 
as  a  wolf  or  badger  might  have  done. 

Then  I  went  back.  The  sun  was  shining  with  slant 
ing  mid-afternoon  rays  down  among  the  trees  by  the 
creek.  I  looked  for  Virginia ;  but  she  was  not  about  the 
wagon,  neither  sitting  in  the  spring  seat,  nor  on  her  box 
by  the  fire,  nor  under  her  favorite  crabapple-tree.  I 
looked  boldly  in  the  wagon,  without  the  timid  tapping 
which  I  had  always  used  to  announce  my  presence — for 
what  did  I  care  now  for  her  privacy? — but  she  was  not 
there.  I  began  searching  for  her  along  the  creek  in  the 
secluded  nooks  which  abounded,  and  at  last  I  heard  her 
voice. 

I  was  startled.  To  whom  could  she  be  speaking?  I 
would  have  nobody  about,  now.  I  would  show  him, 
whoever  he  was!  This  grove  was  mine  as  long  as  I 
wanted  to  stay  there  with  my  girl.  The  blood  rose  to  my 
head  as  I  went  quietly  forward  until  I  could  see  Virginia. 

She  was  alone!  She  had  taken  a  blanket  from  the 
wagon  and  spread  it  on  the  ground  upon  the  grass  under 
a  spreading  elm,  and  scattered  about  on  it  were  articles 
of  clothing  which  she  had  taken  from  her  satchel — that 
satchel  to  which  the  poor  child  had  clung  so-  tightly  while 
she  had  come  to  my  camp  across  the  prairie  on  the  Ridge 
Road  that  night — which  now  seemed  so  long  ago. 
There  was  a  dress  on  which  she  had  been  sewing ;  for  the 
needle  was  stuck  in  the  blanket  with  the  thread  still  in  the 
garment ;  but  she  was  not  working.  She  had  in  her  lap  as 
she  sat  cross-legged  on  the  blanket,  a  little  wax  doll  to 
which  she  was  babbling  and  talking  as  little  girls  do. 
She  had  taken  off  its  dress,  and  was  carefully  wiping  its 


THE  GROVE  DOES  ITS  WORK  193 

face,  telling  it  to  shut  its  eyes,  saying  that  mama  wouldn't 
hurt  it,  asking  it  if  she  wasn't  a  bad  mama  to  keep  it 
shut  up  all  the  time  in  that  dark  satchel,  asking  it  if  it 
wasn't  afraid  in  the  dark,  assuring  it  that  mama  wouldn't 
let  anybody  hurt  it — and  all  this  in  the  sweetest  sort  of 
baby-talk.  And  then  she  put  its  dress  on,  gently  smoothed 
its  hair,  held  it  for  a  whik  against  her  bosom  as  she 
swayed  from  side  to  side  telling  it  to  go  to  sleep,  hummed 
gently  a  cradle  song,  and  put  it  back  in  the  satchel  as  a 
mother  might  put  her  sleeping  baby  in  its  cradle. 
I  crept  silently  away. 

It  was  dark  when  I  returned  to  camp,  and  she  had 
supper  ready  and  was  anxiously  awaiting  me.  She  ran 
to  me  and  took  my  hand  affectionately. 

"What  kept  you  so  long?"  she  asked  earnestly.  "I 
have  been  anxious.  I  thought  something  must  have  hap 
pened  to  you !" 

And  as  we  approached  the  fire,  she  looked  in  my  face, 
and  cried  out  in  astonishment. 

"Something  has  happened  to  you.  You  are  as  white 
as  a  sheet.  What  is  it  ?  Are  you  sick  ?  What  shall  I  do 
if  you  get  sick !" 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  am  not  sick.    I  am  all  right— now." 

"But  something  has  happened,"  she  insisted.  "You 
are  weak  as  well  as  pale.  Let  me  do  something  for  you. 
What  was  it?" 

"A  snake,"  I  said,  for  an  excuse.  "A  rattlesnake.  It 
struck  at  me  and  missed.  It  almost  struck  me.  I'll  be 
all  right  now." 

The  longer  I  live  the  surer  I  am  that  I  told  her  very 
nearly  the  truth. 


I94  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

That  night  we  sat  up  late  and  talked.  She  was  only 
a  dear  little  child,  now,  with  a  bit  of  the  mother  in  her. 
She  was  really  affectionate  to  me,  more  so  than  ever 
before,  and  sometimes  I  turned  cold  as  I  thought  of  how 
her  affection  might  have  been  twisted  into  deviltry  had 
it  not  been  so  strangely  brought  home  to  me  that  she  was 
a  child,  with  a  good  deal  of  the  mother  in  her.  I  turned 
cold  as  I  thought  of  her  playing  with  her  doll  while  I 
had  been  out  on  the  prairie  laying  poison  plots  against 
her  innocence,  her  defenselessness,  her  trust  in  me. 

Why,  she  was  like  my  mother !  I  had  not  thought  of 
my  mother  for  days.  When  she  had  been  young  like  Vir 
ginia,  she  must  have  been  as  beautiful;  and  she  had 
played  with  dolls ;  but  never  except  while  she  was  an  in 
nocent  child,  as  Virginia  now  was. 

For  the  first  time  I  talked  of  mother  to  Virginia. 
I  told  her  of  my  mother's  goodness  to  me  while  Rucker 
was  putting  me  out  to  work  in  the  factory — and  Virginia 
grew  hot  with  anger  at  Rucker,  and  very  pitiful  of  the 
poor  little  boy  going  to  work  before  daylight  and  coming 
home  after  dark.  I  told  her  of  my  running  away,  and  of 
my  life  on  the  canal,  with  all  the  beautiful  things  I  had 
seen  and  the  interesting  things  I  had  done,  leaving  out 
the  fighting  and  the  bad  things.  I  told  her  of  how  I 
had  lost  my  mother,  and  my  years  of  search  for  her, 
ending  at  that  unmarked  grave  by  the  lake.  Virginia's 
eyes  shone  with  tears  and  she  softly  pressed  my  hand. 

I  took  from  my  little  iron-bound  trunk  that  letter 
which  I  had  found  in  the  old  hollow  apple-tree,  and  we 
read  it  over  together  by  the  flickering  light  of  a  small 
fire  which  I  kindled  for  the  purpose;  and  from  the 
very  bottom  of  the  trunk,  wrapped  in  a  white  handker° 


THE  GROVE  DOES  ITS  WORK  195 

chief  which  I  had  bought  for  this  use,  I  took  that  old 
worn-out  shoe  which  I  had  found  that  dark  day  at 
Tempe — and  I  began  telling  Virginia  how  it  was  that 
it  was  so  run  over,  and  worn  in  such  a  peculiar  way. 

My  mother  had  worked  so  hard  for  me  that  she 
had  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  with  her  feet — and  such 
a  flood  of  sorrow  came  over  me  that  I  broke  down  and 
cried.  I  cried  for  my  mother,  and  for  joy  at  being  able  to 
think  of  her  again,  and  for  guilt,  and  with  such  a  mingling 
of  feeling  that  finally  I  started  to  rush  off  into  the  dark 
ness — but  Virginia  clung  to  me  and  wiped  away  my  tears 
and  would  not  let  me  go.  She  said  she  was  afraid  to  be 
left  alone,  and  wanted  me  with  her — and  that  I  was  a 
good  boy.  She  didn't  wonder  that  my  mother  wanted  to 
work  for  me — it  must  have  been  almost  the  only  comfort 
she  had. 

"If  she  had  only  lived,"  I  said,  "so  I  could  have  made 
a  home  for  her !" 

"She  knows  all  about  that,"  said  Virginia ;  "and  when 
she  sees  you  making  a  home  for  some  one  else,  how  happy 
it  will  make  her !" 

Virginia  was  the  older  of  the  two,  now,  the  utterer  of 
words  of  comfort ;  and  I  was  the  child.  The  moon  rose 
late,  but  before  we  retired  it  flooded  the  grove  with  light. 
The  wolves  howled  on  the  prairie,  and  the  screech-owls 
cried  pitifully  in  the  grove ;  but  I  was  happy.  I  told  Vir 
ginia  that  we  must  break  camp  in  the  morning  and  move 
on.  I  must  get  to  my  land,  and  begin  making  that  home. 
She  sighed ;  but  she  did  not  protest.  She  would  always 
remember  this  sojourn  in  the  grove,  she  said ;  she  had 
felt  so  safe !  She  hardly  knew  what  she  would  do  when 
we  reached  the  next  settlement ;  but  she  must  think  out 


196  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

some  way  to  get  back  to  Kentucky.  When  the  time  came 
for  her  to  retire,  I  carried  her  to  the  wagon  and  lifted  her 
in — and  then  went  to  my  own  bed  to  sleep  the  first  sound 
sweet  sleep  I  had  enjoyed  for  days.  The  air  had  been 
purified  by  the  storm. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IN   DEFENSE  OF  THE   PROPRIETIES 

\  7IRGINIA  and  I  arrived  in  Waterloo  about  two  days 
*  after  we  left  the  Grove  of  Destiny,  as  my  grand 
daughter  Gertrude  insists  on  calling  the  place  at  which 
we  camped  after  we  left  Independence.  We  went  in  a 
sort  of  rather-guess  way  back  to  the  Ridge  Road, 
very  happy,  talking  to  each  other  about  ourselves  all  the 
while,  and  admiring  everything  we  saw  along  the  way. 
The  wild  sweet-williams  were  in  bloom,  now,  and  scat 
tered  among  them  were  the  brilliant  orange-colored  puc- 
coons ;  and  the  grass  even  on  the  knolls  was  long  enough 
to  wave  in  the  wind  like  a  rippling  sea.  It  was  a  cool 
and  sunny  spell  of  weather,  with  fleecy  clouds  chasing 
one  another  up  from  the  northwest  like  great  ships  under 
full  sail  running  wing-and-wing  before  the  northwest 
wind  which  blew  strong  day  and  night.  It  was  a  new 
sort  of  weather  to  me — the  typical  high-barometer  weath 
er  of  the  prairies  after  a  violent  "low."  The  driving 
clouds  on  the  first  day  were  sometimes  heavy  enough  to 
spill  over  a  scud  of  rain  (which  often  caught  Virginia 
like  a  cold  splash  from  a  hose),  and  were  whisked  off 
to  the  southeast  in  a  few  minutes,  followed  by  a  brilliant 
burst  of  sunshine — and  all  the  time  the  shadows  of  the 
clouds  raced  over  the  prairie  in  big  and  little  bluish 
patches  speeding  forever  onward  over  a  groundwork  of 

197 


198  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

green  and  gold  dotted  with  the  white  and  purple  and 
yellow  of  the  flowers. 

We  were  now  on  terms  of  simple  trust  and  confi 
dence.  We  played.  We  bet  each  other  great  sums  of 
money  as  to  whether  or  not  the  rain-scud  coming  up  in 
the  west  would  pass  over  us,  or  miss  us,  or  whether  or 
not  the  shadow  of  a  certain  cloud  would  pass  to  the  right 
or  the  left.  People  with  horse  teams  who  were  all  the 
time  passing  us  often  heard  us  laughing,  and  looked  at 
us  and  smiled,  waving  their  hands,  as  Virginia  would  cry 
out,  "I  won  that  time !"  or  "You  drove  slow,  just  to  beat 
me !"  or  "Well,  I  lost,  but  you  owe  me  twenty- five  thou 
sand  dollars  yet !" 

Once  an  outfit  with  roan  horses  and  a  light  wagon 
stopped  and  hailed  us.  The  woman,  sitting  by  her  hus 
band,  had  been  pointing  at  us  and  talking  to  him. 

"Right  purty  day,"  he  said. 

"Most  of  the  time,"  I  answered ;  for  it  had  just 
sloshed  a  few  barrels  of  water  from  one  of  those  flying 
clouds  and  forced  us  to  cover  ourselves  up. 

"Where's  your  folks?"  he  asked. 

"We  ain't  too  old  to  travel  alone,"  I  replied;  "but 
we'll  catch  up  with  the  young  folks  at  Waterloo!" 

He  laughed  and  whipped  up  his  team. 

"Go  it  while  you're  young!"  he  shouted  as  he  went 
out  of  hearing. 

We  were  rather  an  unusual  couple,  as  any  one  could 
see;  though  most  people  doubtless  supposed  that  there 
were  others  of  our  party  riding  back  under  the  cover. 
Virginia  had  not  mentioned  Buckner  Gowdy  since  we 
camped  in  the  Grove  of  Destiny;  and  not  once  had  she 
looked  with  her  old  look  of  terror  at  an  approaching1  or 


IN  DEFENSE  OF  THE  PROPRIETIES      199 

overtaking  team,  or  scuttled  back  into  the  load  to  keep 
from  being  seen.  I  guess  she  had  come  to  believe  in  the 
sufficiency  of  my  protection. 


Waterloo  was  a  town  of  seven  or  eight  years  of  age — 
a  little  straggling  village  on  the  Red  Cedar  River,  as  it 
was  then  called,  building  its  future  on  the  growth  of  the 
country  and  the  water-power  of  the  stream.  It  was 
crowded  with  seekers  after  "country,"  and  its  land  deal 
ers  and  bankers  were  looking  for  customers.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  strong  town  in  money,  and  I  had  a  young  man 
pointed  out  to  me  who  was  said  to  command  unlimited 
capital  and  who  was  associated  with  banks  and  land 
companies  in  Cedar  Rapids  and  Sioux  City, — I  suppose 
he  was  a  Greene,  a  Weare,  a  Graves,  a  Johnson  or  a 
Lusch.  Many  were  talking  of  the  Fort  Dodge  country, 
and  of  the  new  United  States  Land  Office  which  was 
just  then  on  the  point  of  opening  at  Fort  Dodge.  They 
tried  to  send  me  to  several  places  where  land  could  be 
bought  cheaply,  in  the  counties  between  the  Cedar  and 
the  Iowa  Rivers,  and  as  far  west  as  Webster  County ; 
but  when  I  told  them  that  I  had  bought  land  they  at 
once  lost  interest  in  me. 

We  camped  down  by  the  river  among  the  trees,  and 
it  was  late  before  we  were  free  to  sleep,  on  account  of 
the  visits  we  received  from  movers  and  land  men ;  but 
finally  the  camp-fires  died  down,  the  songs  ceased,  the 
music  of  accordions  and  fiddles  was  heard  no  more,  and 
the  camp  of  emigrants  became  silent. 

Virginia  bade  me  good  night,  and  I  rolled  up  in  my 
blankets  under  the  wagon.  I  began  wondering,  after  the 


200  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

questions  which  had  been  asked  as  to  our  relationship, 
just  what  was  to  be  the  end  of  this  strange  journey  of 
the  big  boy  and  the  friendless  girl.  We  were  under  some 
queer  sort  of  suspicion — that  was  clear.  Two  or  three 
wives  among  the  emigrants  had  tried  to  get  a  word  with 
Virginia  in  private;  and  some  of  the  men  had  grinned 
and  winked  at  me  in  a  way  that  I  should  have  been  glad 
to  notice  according  to  my  old  canal  habits;  but  I  had 
sense  enough  to  see  that  that  would  never  do. 

Virginia  was  now  as  free  from  care  as  if  she  had 
been  traveling  with  her  brother ;  and  what  could  I  say  ? 
What  did  I  want  to  say?  By  morning  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  would  take  her  to  my  farm  and  care 
for  her  there,  regardless  of  consequences — and  I  admit 
that  I  was  not  clear  as  to  the  proprieties.  Every  one 
was  a  stranger  to  every  one  else  in  this  country. 
Whose  business  was  it  anyhow?  Doctor  Bliven  and  his 
companion — I  had  worked  out  a  pretty  clear  understand 
ing  of  their  case  by  this  time — were  settling  in  the  new 
West  and  leaving  their  past  behind  them.  Who  could 
have  anything  to  say  against  it  if  I  took  this  girl  with  me 
to  my  farm,  cared  for  her,  protected  her;  and  gave  her 
the  home  that  nobody  else  seemed  ready  to  give  ? 

"Do  you  ever  go  to  church?"  asked  Virginia.  "It's 
Sunday." 

"Is  there  preaching  here  to-day  ?"  I  asked. 

"Don't  you  hear  the  bell?"  she  inquired. 

"Let's  go!"  said  I. 

We  were  late;  and  the  heads  of  the  people  were 
bowed  in  prayer  as  we  went  in ;  so  we  stood  by  the  door 
until  the  prayer  was  over.  The  preacher  was  Elder 
Thorndyke.  I  was  surprised  at  seeing  him  because  he 


IN  DEFENSE  OF  THE  PROPRIETIES      201 

had  told  me  that  he  and  his  wife  were  going  to  Monterey 
Centre ;  but  there  he  was,  laboring  with  his  text,  speak 
ing  in  a  halting  manner,  and  once  in  a  while  bogging 
down  in  a  dead  stop  out  of  which  he  could  not  pull  him 
self  without  giving  a  sort  of  honk  like  a  wild  goose.  It 
was  his  way.  I  never  sat  under  a  preacher  who  had  bet 
ter  reasoning  powers  or  a  worse  way  of  reasoning. 
Down  in  front  of  him  sat  Grandma  Thorndyke,  listening 
intently,  and  smiling  up  to  him  whenever  he  got  in  hub- 
deep  ;  but  at  the  same  time  her  hands  were  clenched  into 
fists  in  her  well-darned  black-silk  gloves. 

I  did  not  know  all  this  then,  for  her  back  was  toward 
us ;  but  I  saw  it  so  often  afterward !  It  was  that  honking 
habit  of  the  elder's  which  had  driven  them,  she  often  told 
me,  from  New  England  to  Ohio,  then  to  Illinois,  and  fi 
nally  out  to  Monterey  Centre.  The  new  country  caught 
the  halt  like  Elder  Thorndyke,  the  lame  like  the 
Fewkeses,  the  outcast  like  the  Bushyagers  and  the  Bliv- 
ens,  the  blind  like  me,  the  far-seeing  like  N.  V.  Creede, 
the  prophets  like  old  Dunlap  the  Abolitionist  and  Amos 
Thatcher,  and  the  great  drift  of  those  who  felt  a  draw 
ing  toward  the  frontier  like  iron  filings  to  a  magnet,  or 
came  with  the  wind  of  emigration  like  tumble-weeds  be 
fore  the  autumn  blast. 

I  remembered  that  when  Virginia  was  with  me  back 
there  by  the  side  of  the  road  that  first  day,  Elder 
Thorndyke  and  his  wife  had  come  by  inquiring  for 
her;  and  I  did  not  quite  relish  the  idea  of  being 
found  here  with  her  after  all  these  long  days;  so  when 
church  was  out  I  took  Virginia  by  the  hand  and  tried  to 
get  out  as  quickly  as  possible;  but  when  we  reached  the 
door,  there  were  Elder  Thorndyke  and  grandma  shaking 


202  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

hands  with  the  people,  and  trying  to  be  pastoral ;  though 
it  was  clear  that  they  were  as  much  strangers  as  we. 
The  elder  was  filling  the  vacant  pulpit  that  day  by  mere 
chance,  as  he  told  me;  but  I  guess  he  was  really  candi- 
dating  a  little  after  all.  It  would  have  been  a  bad  thing 
for  Monterey  Centre  if  he  had  received  the  call. 

They  greeted  Virginia  and  me  with  warm  hand 
clasps  and  hearty  inquiries  after  our  welfare;  and  we 
were  passing  on,  when  Grandma  Thorndyke  headed  us 
off  and  looked  me  fairly  in  the  face. 

"Why,"  said  she,  "you're  that  boy !  Wait  a  minute." 
She  stepped  over  and  spoke  to  her  husband,  who 
seemed  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  what  she  was  talking 
about.  She  pointed  to  us — and  then,  in  despair,  she 
came  back  to  us  and  asked  us  if  we  wouldn't  wait  until 
the  people  were  gone,  as  she  wanted  us  to  meet  her 
husband. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Virginia,  "we'll  be  very  glad  to." 

"Let  us  walk  along  together,"  said  grandma,  after 
the  elder  had  joined  us.  "Ah — this  is  my  husband,  Mr. 
Thorndyke,  Miss " 

"Royall,"  said  Virginia,  "Virginia  Royall.  And  this 
is  Jacob  Vandemark." 

"Where  do  you  live?"  asked  grandma. 

"I'm  going  out  to  my  farm  in  Monterey  County,"  I 
said ;  "and  Virginia  is — is — riding  with  me  a  while." 

"We  are  camping,"  said  Virginia,  smiling,  "down  by 
the  river.  Won't  you  come  to  dinner  with  us?" 

3 

Grandma  ran  to  some  people  who  were  waiting,  I  sup 
pose,  to  take  them  to  the  regular  minister's  Sunday  din- 


IN  DEFENSE  OF  THE  PROPRIETIES      203 

ner,  and  seemed  to  be  making  some  sort  of  plea  to  be 
excused.  What  it  could  have  been  I  have  no  idea;  but  I 
suspect  it  must  have  been  because  of  the  necessity  of 
saving  souls;  some  plea  of  duty;  anyhow  she  soon  re 
turned,  and  with  her  and  the  elder  we  walked  in  silence 
down  to  the  grove  where  our  wagon  stood  among  the 
trees,  with  my  cows  farther  up-stream  picketed  in  the 
grass. 

"Just  make  yourselves  comfortable,"  said  I ;  "while  I 
get  dinner." 

"And,"  said  the  elder,  "I'll  help,  if  I  may." 

"You're  company,"  I  said. 

"Please  let  me,"  he  begged;  "and  while  we  work 
we'll  talk." 

In  the  meantime  Grandma  Thorndyke  was  turning 
Virginia  inside  out  like  a  stocking,  and  looking  for  the 
seamy  side.  She  carefully  avoided  asking  her  about  our 
whereabouts  for  the  last  few  days,  but  she  scrutinized 
Virginia's  soul  and  must  have  found  it  as  white  as  snow. 
She  found  out  how  old  she  was,  how  friendless  she  was, 
how — but  I  rather  think  not  why — Virginia  had  run 
away  from  Buck  Gowdy;  and  all  that  could  be  learned 
about  me  which  could  be  learned  without  entering  into 
details  of  our  hiding  from  the  world  together  all  those 
days  alone  on  the  trackless  prairie.  That  subject  she 
avoided,  though  of  course  she  must  have  had  her  own 
ideas  about  it.  And  after  that,  she  came  and  helped  me 
with  the  dinner,  talking  all  the  time  in  such  a  way  as  to 
draw  me  out  as  to  my  past.  I  told  her  of  my  life  on  the 
canal — and  she  looked  distrustfully  at  me.  I  told  her  of 
my  farm,  and  of  how  I  got  it ;  and  that  brought  out  the 
story  of  my  long  hunt  for  my  mother,  and  of  my  finding 


204  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

of  her  unmarked  grave.  Of  my  relations  with  Virginia 
she  seemed  to  want  no  information.  By  the  time  our 
dinner  was  over — one  of  my  plentiful  wholesome  meals, 
with  some  lettuce  and  radishes  and  young  onions  I  had 
bought  the  night  before — we  were  chatting  together  like 
old  friends. 

"That  was  a  better  dinner,"  said  the  elder,  "than  we'd 
have  had  at  Mr.  Smith's." 

"But  Jacob,  here/'  said  grandma,  "is  not  a  deacon  of 
the  church." 

"That  doesn't  lessen  my  enjoyment  of  the  dinner," 
said  the  elder. 

"No,"  said  Grandma  Thorndyke  dryly,  "I  suppose 
not.  But  now  let  us  talk  seriously.  This  child" — taking 
Virginia's  hand — "is  the  girl  they  were  searching  for 
back  there  along  the  road." 

"Ah,"  said  the  elder. 

"She  had  perfectly  good  reasons  for  running  away," 
went  on  Grandma  Thorndyke,  "and  she  is  not  going 
back  to  that  man.  He  has  no  claim  upon  her.  He  is  not 
her  guardian.  He  is  only  the  man  who  married  her  sis 
ter — and  as  I  firmly  believe,  killed  her !" 

"I  wouldn't  say  that,"  said  the  elder. 

"Now  I  calculate,"  said  Grandma  Thorndyke,  "and 
unless  I  am  corrected  I  shall  so  report — and  I  dare  any 
one  to  correct  me ! — that  this  child" — squeezing  Vir 
ginia's  hand — "had  taken  refuge  at  some  dwelling  along 
the  road,  and  that  this  morning — not  later  than  this 
morning — as  Jacob  drove  along  into  Waterloo  he  over 
took  Virginia  walking  into  town  where  she  was  going  to 
seek  a  position  of  some  kind.  So  that  you  two  children 
were  together  not  longer  than  from  seven  this  morning 


IN  DEFENSE  OF  THE  PROPRIETIES      205 

until  just  before  church.  You  ought  not  to  travel  on 
the  Sabbath!" 

"No,  ma'am,"  said  I ;  for  she  was  attacking  me. 

"Now  we  are  poor,"  went  on  Grandma  Thorndyke, 
"but  we  never  have  starved  a  winter  yet ;  and  we  want  a 
child  like  you  to  comfort  us,  and  to  help  us — and  we 
mustn't  leave  you  as  you  are  any  longer.  You  must  ride 
on  with  Mr.  Thorndyke  and  me." 

This  to  Virginia — who  stretched  out  her  hands  to  me, 
and  then  buried  her  face  in  them  in  Grandma  Thorn- 
dyke's  lap.  She  was  crying  so  that  she  did  not  hear  me 
when  I  asked: 

"Why  can't  we  go  on  as  we  are?  I've  got  a  farm. 
I'll  take  care  of  her !" 

"Children !"  snorted  grandma.    "Babes  in  the  wood !" 

I  think  she  told  the  elder  in  some  way  without  words 
to  take  me  off  to  one  side  and  talk  to  me ;  for  he  hummed 
and  hawed,  and  asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  show  him  my 
horses.  I  told  him  that  I  was  driving  cows,  and  went 
with  him  to  see  them.  I  now  had  six  again,  besides 
those  I  had  left  with  Mr.  Westervelt  back  along  the  road 
toward  Dubuque ;  and  it  took  me  quite  a  while  to  explain 
to  him  how  I  had  traded  and  traded  along  the  road,  first 
my  two  horses  for  my  first  cows,  and  then  always  giving 
one  sound  cow  for  two  lame  ones,  until  I  had  great 
riches  for  those  days  in  cattle. 

He  thought  this  wonderful,  and  said  that  I  was  a 
second  Job;  and  had  every  faculty  for  acquiring  riches. 
I  had  actually  made  property  while  moving,  an  operation 
that  was  so  expensive  that  it  bankrupted  many  people. 
It  was  astonishing,  he  insisted ;  and  began  looking  upon 
me  with  more  respect — making  property  being  the  thing 


206  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

in  which  he  was  weakest,  except  for  laying  up  treasures 
in  Heaven.  He  was  surprised,  too,  to  learn  that  cows 
could  be  made  draught  animals.  He  had  always  thought 
of  them  as  good  for  nothing  but  giving  milk.  In  fact  I 
found  myself  so  much  wiser  than  he  was  in  the  things  we 
had  been  discussing  that  when  he  began  to  talk  to  me 
about  Virginia  and  the  impossibility  of  our  going  to 
gether  as  we  had  been  doing,  it  marked  quite  a  change  in 
our  relationship — he  having  been  the  scholar  and  I  the 
teacher. 

"Quite  a  strange  meeting,"  said  he,  "between  you  and 
Miss  Royall." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  thinking  it  over,  from  that  first  wolf- 
hunted  approach  to  my  camp  to  our  yesterday  of  clouds 
and  sunshine;  "I  never  had  anything  like  it  happen  to 
me." 

"Mrs.  Thorndyke,"  said  he,  "is  a  mighty  smart  wo 
man.  She  knows  what'll  do,  and  what  won't  do  better 
than — than  any  of  us." 

I  wasn't  ready  to  admit  this,  and  therefore  said 
nothing. 

"Don't  you  think  so?"  he  asked. 

"I  do'  know,"  I  said,  a  little  sullenly. 

"A  girl,"  said  he,  "has  a  pretty  hard  time  in  life  if 
she  loses  her  reputation." 

Again  I  made  no  reply. 

"You    are   just   two   thoughtless    children,"    said   he; 
"aren't  you  now?" 

"She's  nothing,"  said  I,  "but  a  little  innocent  child !" 

"Now  that's  so,"  said  he,  "that's  so ;  but  after  all  she's 
old  enough  so  that  evil  things  might  be  thought  of  her — 
evil  things  might  be  said;  and  there'd  be  no  answer  to 


IN  DEFENSE  OF  THE  PROPRIETIES      207 

them,  no  answer.  Why,  she's  a  woman  grown — a  woman 
grown ;  and  as  for  you,  you're  getting  a  beard.  This 
won't  do,  you  know ;  it  is  all  right  if  there  were  just  you 
and  Miss  Royall  and  my  wife  and  me  in  the  world;  but 
you  wouldn't  think  for  a  minute  of  traveling  with  this 
little  girl  the  way  you  have  been — the  way  you  speak  of 
doing,  I  mean — if  you  knew  that  in  the  future,  when  she 
must  make  her  way  in  the  world  with  nothing  but  her 
friends,  this  little  boy-and-girl  experience  might  take  her 
friends  from  her ;  and  when  she  will  have  nothing  but 
her  good  name  you  don't  want,  and  would  not  for  the 
world  have  anything  thoughtlessly  done  now,  that  might 
take  her  good  name  from  her.  You  are  too  young  to 
understand  this  as  you  will  some  day " 

"The  trouble  with  me,"  I  blurted  out,  "is  that  I've 
never  had  much  to  do  with  good  women — only  with  my 
mother  and  Mrs.  Fogg — and  they  could  never  have  any 
thing  said  against  them — neither  of  them !" 

"Where  have  you  lived  all  your  life?"  he  asked. 

Then  I  told  him  of  the  way  I  had  picked  up  my  hat 
and  corne  up  instead  of  being  brought  up,  of  the  women 
along  the  canal,  of  her  who  called  herself  Alice  Rucker, 
of  the  woman  who  stole  across  the  river  with  me — but  I 
didn't  mention  her  name — of  as  much  as  I  could  think  of 
in  my  past  history;  and  all  the  time  Elder  Thorndyke 
gazed  at  me  with  increasing  interest,  and  with  something 
the  look  we  have  in  listening  to  tales  of  midnight  murder 
and  groaning  ghosts.  I  must  have  been  an  astonishing 
sort  of  mystery  to  him.  Certainly  I  was  a  castaway  and 
an  outcast  to  his  ministerial  mind ;  and  boy  as  I  was,  he 
seemed  to  feel  for  me  a  sort  of  awed  respect  mixed  up  a 
little  with  horror. 


208  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Heavenly  Father!"  he  blurted  out.  "You  have  es 
caped  as  by  the  skin  of  your  teeth." 

"I  do'  know,"  said  I. 

"But  don't  you  understand,"  he  insisted,  "that  this 
trip  has  got  to  end  here?  Suppose  your  mother,  when 
she  was  a  child  in  fact,  but  a  woman  grown  also,  like 
Miss  Royall,  had  been  placed  as  she  is  with  a  boy  of  your 
age  and  one  who  had  lived  your  life " 

"No,"  said  I,  "it  won't  do.    You  can  have  her !" 


I  really  felt  as  if  I  was  giving  up  something  that  had 
belonged  to  me.  I  felt  the  pangs  of  renunciation. 

We  walked  back  to  the  wagon  in  silence,  and  found 
Virginia  and  Grandma  Thorndyke  sitting  on  the  spring 
seat  with  grandma's  arm  about  the  girl,  with  a  handker 
chief  in  her  hand,  just  as  if  she  had  been  wiping  the  tears 
from  Virginia's  eyes ;  but  the  girl  was  laughing  and  talk 
ing  in  a  manner  more  lively  than  I  had  ever  seen  her 
exhibit.  She  was  as  happy,  apparently,  as  I  was  gloomy 
and  downcast. 

I  wanted  the  Thorndykes  to  go  away  so  that  I 
could  have  a  farewell  talk  with  Virginia;  but  they 
stayed  on  and  stayed  on,  and  finally,  after  dark,  grandma 
rose  with  a  look  at  Virginia  which  she  seemed  to  under 
stand,  and  they  took  my  girl's  satchel  and  all  walked  off 
together  toward  the  tavern. 

I  sat  down  and  buried  my  face  in  my  hands,  Vir 
ginia's  good-by  had  been  so  light,  so  much  like  the  part 
ing  of  two  mere  strangers.  And  after  all  what  was  I  to 
her  but  a  stranger?  She  was  of  a  different  sort  from 
me.  She  had  lived  in  cities.  She  had  a  good  education 


IN  DEFENSE  OF  THE  PROPRIETIES      209 

— at  least  I  thought  so.  She  was  like  the  Thorndykes — 
city  folks,  educated  people,  who  could  have  no  use  for  a 
clodhopper  like  me,  a  canal  hand,  a  rough  character. 
And  just  as  I  had  plunged  myself  into  the  deepest  de 
spair,  I  heard  a  light  footfall,  and  Virginia  knelt  down 
before  me  on  the  ground  and  pulled  my  hands  from  my 
eyes. 

"Don't  cry,"  said  she.  "We'll  see  each  other  again. 
I  came  back  to  bid  you  good-by,  and  to  say  that  you've 
been  so  good  to  me  that  I  can't  think  of  it  without  tears ! 
Good-by,  Jacob!" 

She  lifted  my  face  between  her  two  hands,  kissed  me 
the  least  little  bit,  and  ran  off.  Back  in  the  darkness  I 
saw  the  tall  figure  of  Grandma  Thorndyke,  who  seemed 
to  be  looking  steadily  off  into  the  distance.  Virginia 
locked  arms  with  her  and  they  went  away  leaving  me 
with  my  cows  and  my  empty  wagon — filled  with  the  goods 
in  which  I  took  so  much  pride  when  I  left  Madison. 

With  the  first  rift  of  light  in  the  east  I  rose  from  my 
sleepless  bed  under  the  wagon — I  would  not  profane  her 
couch  inside  by  occupying  it — and  yoked  up  my  cattle. 
Before  noon  I  was  in  Cedar  Falls ;  and  from  there  west  I 
found  the  Ridge  Road  growing  less  and  less  a  beaten 
track  owing  to  decreasing  travel ;  but  plainly  marked  by 
stakes  which  those  two  pioneers  had  driven  along  the 
way  as  I  have  said  for  the  guidance  of  others  in  finding  a 
road  which  they  had  missed  themselves. 

We  were  developing  citizenship  and  the  spirit  of 
America.  Those  wagon  loads  of  stakes  cut  on  the  Cedar 
River  in  1854  and  driven  in  the  prairie  sod  as  guides  for 
whoever  might  follow  showed  forth  the  true  spirit  of  the 
American  pioneer- 


210  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

But  I  was  in  no  frame  of  mind  to  realize  this.  I  was 
drawing  nearer  and  nearer  my  farm,  but  for  a  day  or  so 
this  gave  me  no  pleasure.  My  mind  was  on  other  things. 
I  was  lonelier  than  I  had  been  since  I  found  Rucker  in 
Madison.  I  talked  to  no  one — I  merely  followed  the 
stakes — until  one  morning  I  pulled  into  a  strange  cluster 
of  houses  out  on  the  green  prairie,  the  beginning  of  a 
village.  I  drew  up  in  front  of  its  blacksmith  shop  and 
asked  the  name  of  the  place.  The  smith  lifted  his  face 
from  the  sole  of  the  horse  he  was  shoeing  and  replied, 
"Monterey  Centre." 

I  looked  around  at  my  own  county,  stretching  away 
in  green  waves  on  all  sides  of  the  brand-new  village ; 
which  was  so  small  that  it  did  not  interfere  with  the 
view.  I  had  reached  my  own  county !  I  had  been  a  part 
of  it  on  this  whole  wonderful  journey,  getting  acquainted 
with  its  people,  picking  up  the  threads  of  its  future,  now 
its  history. 

Prior  to  this  time  I  had  been  courting  the  country; 
now  I  was  to  be  united  with  it  in  that  holy  wedlock 
which  binds  the  farmer  to  the  soil  he  tills.  Out  of 
this  black  loam  was  to  come  my  own  flesh  and  blood,  and 
the  bodies,  and  I  believe,  in  some  measure,  the  souls  of 
my  children.  Some  dim  conception  of  this  made  me 
draw  in  a  deep,  deep  breath  of  the  fresh  prairie  air. 


CHAPTER  XII 

HELL  SLEW,  ALIAS  VANDEMARK's  FOLLY 

'"PHAT  last  night  before  I  reached  my  "home  town"  of 
A  Monterey  Centre,  I  had  camped  within  two  or  three 
miles  of  the  settlement.  I  forgot  all  that  day  to  inquire 
where  I  was:  so  absent-minded  was  I  with  all  my 
botheration  because  of  losing  Virginia.  I  was  thinking 
all  the  time  of  seeing  her  again,  wondering  if  I  should 
ever  see  her  alone  or  to  speak  to  her,  ashamed  of  my 
behavior  toward  her — in  my  thoughts  at  least — vexed 
because  I  had  felt  toward  her,  except  for  the  last  two  or 
three  days,  things  that  made  it  impossible  to  get  really 
acquainted  and  friendly  with  her.  I  was  absorbed  in 
the  attempt  to  figure  out  the  meaning  of  her  friendly  acts 
when  we  parted,  especially  her  coming  back,  as  I  was  sure 
she  had,  against  the  will  of  Grandma  Thorndyke;  and 
that  kiss  she  had  given  me  was  a  much  greater  problem 
than  making  time  on  my  journey :  I  lived  it  over  and  over 
again  a  thousand  times  and  asked  myself  what  I  ought  to 
have  done  when  she  kissed  me,  and  never  feeling  satisfied 
with  myself  for  not  doing  more  of  something  or  other,  I 
knew  not  what.  It  was  well  for  me  that  my  teams  were 
way-wised  so  that  they  drove  themselves.  I  could  have 
made  Monterey  Centre  easily  that  night ;  for  it  was  only 
about  eight  o'clock  by  the  sun  next  morning  when  I 

211 


212  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

pulled  up  at  the  blacksmith  shop,  and  was  told  by  Jim 
Boyd,  the  smith,  that  I  was  in  Monterey  Centre. 

And  now  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I  did  not  know 
where  my  land  was,  nor  how  to  find  out.  Monterey 
Prairie  was  as  blank  as  the  sea,  except  for  a  few  settlers' 
houses  scattered  about  within  a  mile  or  two  of  the  village. 
I  sat  scratching  my  head  and  gazing  about  me  like  a 
lunkhead  while  Boyd  finished  shoeing  a  horse,  and  had 
begun  sharpening  the  lay  of  a  breaking-plow — when  up 
rode  Pitt  Bushyager  on  one  of  the  horses  he  and  his  gang 
had  had  in  the  Grove  of  Destiny  back  beyond  Waterloo. 

I  must  have  started  when  I  saw  him ;  for  he  glanced 
at  me  sharply  and  suspiciously,  and  his  dog-like  brown 
eyes  darted  about  for  a  moment,  as  if  the  dog  in  him  had 
scented  game:  then  he  looked  at  my  jaded  cows,  at  my 
muddy  wagon,  its  once-white  cover  now  weather-beaten 
and  ragged,  and  at  myself,  a  buttermilk-eyed,  tow-headed 
Dutch  boy  with  a  face  covered  with  down  like  a  month- 
old  gosling ;  and  his  eyes  grew  warm  and  friendly,  as  they 
usually  looked,  and  his  curly  black  mustache  parted  from 
his  little  black  goatee  with  a  winning  smile.  After  he  had 
turned  his  horse  over  to  the  smith,  he  came  over  and 
talked  with  me.  He  said  he  had  seen  cows  broken  to 
drive  by  the  Pukes — as  we  used  to  call  the  Missourians — 
but  never  except  by  those  who  were  so  "pore"  that  they 
couldn't  get  horses,  and  he  could  see  by  my  nice  outfit, 
and  the  number  of  cows  I  had,  that  I  could  buy  and  sell 
some  of  the  folks  that  drove  horses.  What  was  my  idea 
in  driving  cows  ? 

"They  are  faster  than  oxen,"  I  said,  "and  they'll  make 
a  start  in  stock  for  me  when  I  get  on  my  farm ;  and  they 
give  milk  when  you're  traveling.  I  traded  my  horses  for 


HELL  SLEW  213 

my  first  cows,  and  I've  been  trading  one  sound  cow  for 
two  lame  ones  all  along  the  road.  I've  got  some  more 
back  along  the  way." 

"Right  peart  notion,"  said  he.  "I  reckon  you'll  do  for 
Iowa.  Where  you  goin'?" 

Then  I  explained  about  my  farm,  and  my  problem  in 
finding  it. 

"Oh,  that's  easy!"  said  he.  "Oh,  Mr.  Burns!"  he 
called  to  a  man  standing  in  a  doorway  across  the  street. 
"Come  over  here,  if  you  can  make  it  suit.  He's  a  land- 
locater,"  he  explained  to  me.  "Makes  it  a  business  to 
help  newcomers  like  you  to  get  located.  Nice  man, 
too." 

By  this  time  Henderson  L.  Burns  had  started  across 
the  street.  He  was  dressed  stylishly,  and  came  with  a 
sort  of  prance,  his  head  up  and  his  nostrils  flaring  like  a 
Jersey  bull's,  looking  as  popular  as  a  man  could  appear. 
We  always  called  him  "Henderson  L."  to  set  him  apart 
from  Hiram  L.  Burns,  a  lawyer  that  tried  to  practise  here 
for  a  few  years,  and  didn't  make  much  of  an  out  of  it. 

"Mr.  Burns,"  said  Pitt  Bushyager,  "this  is  Mr.— 

"Vandemark,"  said  I:  "Jacob  Vandemark" — you  see 
I  did  not  know  then  that  my  correct  name  is  Jacobus. 

"Mine's  Bushyager,"  said  he,  "Pitt  Bushyager  Got 
a  raft  of  brothers  and  sisters — so  you'll  know  us  better 
after  a  while.  Mr.  Burns,  this  is  Mr.  Vandemark." 

"Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  Henderson 
L.,  flaring  his  nostrils,  and  shaking  my  hand  till  it  ached. 
"Hope  you're  locating  in  Monterey  County.  Father  with 
you?" 

"No,"  said  I,  "I  am  alone  in  the  world — and  this  out 
fit  is  all  I've  got." 


214  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Nice  outfit,"  said  he.  "Good  start  for  a  young  fel 
low;  and  let  me  give  you  a  word  of  advice.  Settle  in 
Monterey  County,  as  close  to  Monterey  Centre  as  you 
can  get.  People  that  drive  through,  hunting  for  the 
earthly  paradise,  are  making  a  great  mistake ;  for  this  is 
the  garden  spot  of  the  garden  of  the  world.  This  is 
practically,  and  will  without  a  shadow  of  doubt  be  perma 
nently  the  county-seat  of  the  best  county  in  Iowa,  and 
that  means  the  best  in  the  known  world.  We  are  just  the 
right  distance  from  the  river  to  make  this  the  location  of 
the  best  town  in  the  state,  and  probably  eventually  the 
state  capital.  Land  will  increase  in  value  by  leaps  and 
bounds.  No  stumps,  no  stones,  just  the  right  amount  of 
rainfall — the  garden  spot  of  the  West,  Mr.  Vandemark, 
the  garden  spot — . — " 

"This  boy,"  said  Pitt  Bushyager,  "has  land  already 
entered.  I  told  him  you'd  be  able  to  show  it  to  him." 

"Land  already  entered?"  he  queried.  "I  don't  seem 
to  remember  the  name  of  Vandemark  on  the  records. 
Sure  it's  in  this  county  ?" 

I  went  back  to  the  little  flat  package  in  the  iron-bound 
trunk,  found  my  deed,  and  gave  it  to  him.  He  examined 
it  closely. 

"Not  recorded,"  said  he.  "Out  near  Hell  Slew,  some 
where.  Better  let  me  take  you  over  to  the  recorder's 
office,  and  have  him  send  it  in  for  record.  Name  of 
John  Rucker  on  the  records.  I  think  the  taxes  haven't 
been  paid  for  a  couple  of  years.  Better  have  him  send 
and  get  a  statement.  I'll  take  you  to  the  land.  That's 
my  business — guarantee  it's  the  right  place,  find  the 
corners,  and  put  you  right  as  a  trivet  all  for  twenty-five 
dollars." 


HELL  SLEW  215 

"To-day?"    I  asked.    "I  want  to  get  to  breaking." 

^Start  as  soon  as  we  get  through  here,"  said  he  as  we 
entered  the  little  board  shack  which  bore  the  sign, 
"County  Offices."  "No  time  to  lose  if  you're  going  to 
plant  anything  this  year.  Le'me  have  that  deed.  This 
is  Mr.  Vandemark,  Bill." 

I  don't  remember  what  "Bill's"  full  name  was,  for  he 
went  back  to  the  other  county  as  soon  as  the  government 
of  Monterey  was  settled.  He  took  my  deed,  wrote  a 
memorandum  of  filing  on  the  back  of  it,  and  tossed  it  into 
a  basket  as  if  it  amounted  to  nothing,  after  giving  me  a 
receipt  for  it.  Henderson  L.  had  some  trouble  to  get  me 
to  leave  the  deed,  and  the  men  about  the  little  substitute 
for  a  court-house  thought  it  mighty  funny,  I  guess ;  but  I 
never  could  see  anything  funny  about  being  prudent. 
Then  he  got  his  horse,  hitched  to  a  buckboard  buggy,  and 
wanted  me  to  ride  out  to  the  land  with  him ;  but  I  would 
not  leave  my  cows  and  outfit.  Henderson  L.  said  he 
couldn't  bother  to  wait  for  cows ;  but  when  he  saw  my 
shotgun,  and  the  twenty-five  dollars  which  I  offered  him, 
he  said  if  I  would  furnish  the  gun  and  ammunition  he 
would  kill  time  along  the  road,  so  that  the  whole  outfit 
could  be  kept  together.  He  even  waited  while  I  dickered 
with  Jim  Boyd  for  a  breaking  plow,  which  I  admitted  I 
should  need  the  first  thing,  as  soon  as  Jim  mentioned  it  to 
me.* 

"This  is  Mr.  Thorkelson,"  said  he  as  he  rejoined  me 
after  two  or  three  false  starts.  "He's  going  to  be  a  neigh- 


*The  date  on  the  deed  shows  this  to  have  been  May  25, 
1855 — the  day  the  author  first  saw  what  has  since  become  Van- 
demark  Township.  Although  its  history  is  so  far  written,  the 
township  was  not  yet  legally  in  existence. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


216  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

bor  of  yours.     I'm  going  to  locate  him  on  a  quarter  out 
your  way — Mr.  Vandemark,  Mr.  Thorkelson." 

Magnus  Thorkelson  gave  me  his  hand  bashfully.  He 
was  then  about  twenty-five ;  and  had  on  the  flat  cap  and 
peasant's  clothes  that  he  wore  on  the  way  over  from 
Norway.  He  had  red  hair  and  a  face  spotted  with 
freckles ;  and  growing  on  his  chin  and  upper  lip  was  a 
fiery  red  beard.  He  was  so  tall  that  Henderson  L.  tried 
to  tell  him  not  to  come  to  the  Fourth  of  July  celebration, 
or  folks  might  think  he  was  the  fireworks ;  but  Magnus 
only  smiled.  I  don't  believe  he  understood:  for  at  that 
time  his  English  was  not  very  extensive ;  but  after  all,  he 
is  as  silent  now  as  he  was  then.  We  looked  down  on  all 
kinds  of  "old  countrymen"  then,  and  thought  them  much 
below  us  ;  but  Magnus  and  I  got  to  be  friends  as  we  drove 
the  cows  across  the  prairie,  and  we  have  been  friends  ever 
since.  It  was  not  until  years  after  that  I  saw  what  a 
really  remarkable  man  Magnus  was,  physically,  and  men 
tally — he  was  so  mild,  so  silent,  so  gentle.  He  carried  a 
carpetbag  full  of  belongings  in  one  hand,  which  he  put  in 
the  wagon,  and  a  fiddle  in  its  case  in  the  other.  It  was  a 
long  time,  too,  before  I  began  to  feel  how  much  better  his 
fiddling  was  than  any  I  had  ever  heard.  It  didn't  seem 
to  have  as  much  tune  to  it  as  the  old-style  fiddling, 
and  he  would  hardly  ever  play  for  dances ;  but  his  fiddle 
just  seemed  to  sing.  He  became  a  part  of  the  history  of 
Vandemark  Township;  and  was  the  first  fruits  of  the 
Scandinavian  movement  to  our  county  so  far  as  I  know. 


As  we  turned  back  over  the  way  I  had  come  for  about 
half  a  mile,  we  met  coming  into  town,  the  well-known 


HELL  SLEW  217 

spanking  team  of  horses  of  Buckner  Gowdy ;  but  now  it 
was  hitched  to  a  light  buggy,  but  was  still  driven  by 
Pinck  Johnson,  who  had  the  horses  on  a  keen  gallop  as 
if  running  after  a  doctor  for  snake-bite  or  apoplexy.  It 
was  the  way  Gowdy  always  went  careering  over  the  prai 
ries,  killing  horses  by  the  score,  and  laughingly  answer 
ing  criticisms  by  saying  that  there  would  be  horses  left 
in  the  world  after  he  was  gone.  He  said  he  hadn't  time 
to  waste  on  saving  horses ;  but  he  always  had  one  or  two 
teams  that  he  took  good  care  of;  and  once  in  a  while 
Pinck  Johnson  went  back,  to  Kentucky,  it  was  said,  and 
brought  on  a  fresh  supply.  As  they  came  near  to  us  the 
negro  pulled  up,  and  halted  just  after  they  had  passed  us. 
We  stopped,  and  Gowdy  came  back  to  my  wagon. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Vandemark,"  he  said.  "I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  survived  all  the  dangers  of  the 
voyage." 

"How-de-do,"  I  answered,  looking  as  blank  as  I 
could ;  for  Virginia  was  on  my  mind  as  soon  as  I  saw 
him.  "I  come  slow,  but  I'm  here." 

All  through  this  talk,  Gowdy  watched  my  face  as  if  to 
catch  me  telling  something  crooked ;  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  give  him  just  enough  of  the  truth  to  cover  what 
he  was  sure  to  find  out  whether  I  told  him  or  not. 

"Did  you  pick  up  any  passengers  as  you  came  along  ?" 
he  asked,  with  a  sharp  look. 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "I  had  a  lawyer  with  me  for  a  day  or 
two — Mr.  Creede." 

"Heard  of  him,"  said  Gowdy.  "Locating  over  at  our 
new  town  of  Lithopolis,  isn't  he  ?  See  anybody  you  knew 
on  the  way  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  said.    "I  saw  your  sister-in-law  in  Waterloo, 


218  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

She  was  with  a  minister  and  his  wife — a  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Thorndyke — or  something  like  that." 

"Yes,"  said  Gowdy,  trying  to  be  calm.  "Friends  of 
ours — of  hers." 

"They're  here  in  the  city,"  said  Henderson  L.  "He's 
going  to  be  the  new  preacher." 

"I  know,"  said  Gowdy.  "I  know.  Able  man,  too. 
How  did  it  happen  that  I  didn't  see  your  outfit,  Mr.  Van- 
demark?  I  went  back  over  the  road  after  I  passed  you 
there  at  the  mud-hole,  and  returned,  and  wondered  why 
I  didn't  see  you.  Thought  you  had  turned  off  and  given 
Monterey  County  up.  Odd  I  didn't  see  you."  And  all 
the  time  he  was  looking  at  me  like  a  lawyer  cross-exam 
ining  a  witness. 

"Oh,"  said  I,  "I  went  off  the  road  a  few  miles  to  break 
in  some  cattle  I  had  traded  for,  and  to  let  them  get  over 
their  sore-footedness,  and  to  leave  some  that  I  couldn't 
bring  along.  I  had  so  many  that  I  couldn't  make  time. 
I'm  going  back  for  them  as  soon  as  I  can  get  around  to 
it.  You  must  have  missed  me  that  way." 

"Trust  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  he,  "to  follow  off  any 
cattle  track  that  shows  itself.  He  is  destined  to  be  the 
cattle  king  of  the  prairies,  Mr.  Burns.  I'm  needing  all 
the  men  I  can  get,  Mr.  Vandemark,  putting  up  my  house 
and  barns  and  breaking  prairie.  I  wonder  if  you  wouldn't 
like  to  turn  an  honest  penny  by  coming  over  and  working 
for  me  for  a  while  ?" 

He  had  been  astonished  and  startled  at  the  word  that 
Virginia,  after  escaping  from  him,  had  found  friends,  and 
tried  to  pass  the  matter  off  as  something  of  which  he 
knew ;  but  now  he  was  quite  his  smiling,  confidential  self 
again,  talking  as  if  his  offering  me  work  was  a  favor  he 


HELL  SLEW  219 

was  begging  in  a  warm  and  friendly  sort  of  manner.  I 
explained  that  I  myself  was  getting  my  farm  in  con 
dition  to  live  upon,  but  might  be  glad  to  come  to  him 
later;  and  we  drove  on — I  all  the  time  sweating  like  a 
butcher  under  the  strain  of  this  getting  so  close  to  my 
great  secret — and  Virginia's. 

Would  it  not  all  have  to  come  out  finally?  What 
would  Gowdy  do  to  get  Virginia  back?  Would  he  try 
at  all?  Did  he  have  any  legal  right  to  her  control  and 
custody?  I  trusted  completely  in  Grandma  Thorndyke's 
protection  of  her — an  army  with  banners  would  not  have 
given  me  more  confidence ;  for  I  could  not  imagine  any 
one  making  her  do  anything  she  thought  wrong,  and 
ten  armies  with  all  the  banners  in  the  world  could  not 
have  forced  her  to  allow  anything  improper — and  she 
had  said  that  she  and  the  elder  were  going  to  take  care 
of  the  poor  friendless  girl — yet,  I  looked  back  at  the 
Gowdy  buggy  flying  on  toward  the  village,  in  two  minds 
as  to  whether  or  not  I  ought  to  go  back  and  do — some 
thing.  If  I  could  have  seen  what  that  something  might 
have  been,  I  should  probably  have  gone  back;  but  I 
could  not  think  just  where  I  came  into  the  play  here. 

So  I  went  on  toward  the  goal  of  all  my  ambitions,  my 
square  mile  of  Iowa  land,  steered  by  Henderson  L.  Burns, 
who,  between  shooting  prairie  chickens,  upland  plover 
and  sickle-billed  curlew,  guided  me  toward  my  goal  by 
pointing  out  lone  boulders,  and  the  mounds  in  front  of  the 
dens  of  prairie  wolves  and  badgers.  We  went  on  for  six 
miles,  and  finally  came  to  a  place  where  the  land 
slopes  down  in  what  is  a  pretty  steep  hill  for  Iowa,  to  a 
level  bottom  more  than  a  mile  across,  at  the  farther  side 
of  which  the  land  again  rises  to  the  general  level  of  the 


220  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

country  in  another  slope,  matching  the  one  on  the  brow 
of  which  we  halted.  The  general  course  of  the  two  hills 
is  easterly  and  westerly,  and  we  stood  on  the  southern 
side  of  the  broad  flat  valley. 


As  I  write,  I  can  look  out  over  it.  The  drainage  of 
the  flat  now  runs  off  through  a  great  open  ditch  which 
I  combined  with  my  neighbors  to  have  dredged  through 
by  a  floating  dredge  in  1897.  The  barge  set  in  two  miles 
above  me,  and  after  it  had  dug  itself  down  so  as  to  get 
water  in  which  to  float,  it  worked  its  way  down  to  the 
river  eight  miles  away.  The  line  of  this  ditch  is  now 
marked  by  a  fringe  of  trees ;  but  in  1855,  nothing  broke 
the  surface  of  the  sea  of  grass  except  a  few  clumps  of 
plum  trees  and  willows  at  the  foot  of  the  opposite  slope, 
and  here  and  there  along  the  line  of  the  present  ditch, 
there  were  ponds  of  open  water,  patches  of  cattails,  and 
the  tent-like  roofs  of  muskrat-houses.  I  had  learned 
enough  of  the  prairies  to  see  that  this  would  be  a  miry 
place  to  cross,  if  a  crossing  had  to  be  made ;  so  I  waited 
for  Henderson  L.  to  come  up  and  tell  me  how  to  steer  my 
course. 

"This  is  Hell  Slew,"  said  he  as  he  came  up.  "But  I 
guess  we  won't  have  to  cross.  Le's  see ;  le's  see !  Yes, 
here  we  are." 

He  looked  at  his  memorandum  of  the  description  of 
my  land,  looked  about  him,  drove  off  a  mile  south  and 
came  back,  finally  put  his  horse  down  the  hill  to  the 
base  of  it,  and  out  a  hundred  yards  in  the  waving  grass 
that  made  early  hay  for  the  town  for  fifteen  years,  he 


HELL  SLEW  221 

found  the  corner  stake  driven  by  the  government  survey 
ors,  and  beckoned  for  me  to  come  down. 

"This  is  the  southeast  corner  of  your  land,"  said  he. 
"Looks  like  a  mighty  good  place  for  a  man  with  as  good  a 
shotgun  as  that — ducks  and  geese  the  year  round !" 

"Where  are  the  other  corners  ?"    I  asked. 

"That's  to  be  determined/'  he  answered. 

To  determine  it,  he  tied  his  handkerchief  about  the 
felly  of  his  buggy  wheel,  held  a  pocket  compass  in  his 
left  hand  to  drive  by,  picked  out  a  tall  rosin-weed  to  mark 
the  course  for  me,  and  counted  the  times  the  handker 
chief  went  round  as  the  buggy  traveled  on.  He  knew 
how  many  turns  made  a  mile.  The  horse's  hoofs  sucked 
in  the  wet  sod  as  we  got  farther  out  into  the  marsh,  and 
then  the  ground  rose  a  little  and  we  went  up  over  a  head 
land  that  juts  out  into  the  marsh ;  then  we  went  down 
into  the  slew  again,  and  finally  stopped  in  a  miry  place 
where  there  was  a  flowing  spring  with  tall  yellow  lady's- 
slippers  and  catkined  willows  growing  around  it.  After 
a  few  minutes  of  looking  about,  Burns  found  my  south 
west  corner.  We  made  back  to  the  edge  of  the  slope,  and 
Henderson  L.  looked  off  to  the  north  in  despair. 

"My  boy,"  said  he,  "I've  actually  located  your  two 
south  corners,  and  you  can  run  the  south  line  yourself 
from  these  stakes.  The  north  line  is  three  hundred  and 
twenty  rods  north  of  and  parallel  to  it — and  the  east  and 
west  lines  will  run  themselves  when  you  locate  the  north 
corners — but  I'll  have  to  wait  till  the  ground  freezes,  or 
get  Darius  Green  to  help  me — and  the  great  tide  of 
immigration  hain't  brought  him  to  this  neck  of  the  woods 
yet." 

"But  where's  my  land?"  I  queried:  for  I  did  not  un- 


222  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

derstand  all  this  hocus-pocus  of  locating  any  given  spot 
in  the  Iowa  prairies  in  1855.  "Where's  my  land  ?" 

"The  heft  of  it,"  said  he,  "is  right  down  there  in  Hell 
Slew.  It's  all  pretty  wet;  but  I  think  you've  got  the 
wettest  part  of  it;  the  best  duck  ponds,  and  the  biggest 
muskrat-houses.  This  slew  is  the  only  blot  in  the 
'scutcheon  of  this  pearl  of  counties,  Mr.  Vandemark — 
the  only  blot ;  and  you've  got  the  blackest  of  it." 

I  leaned  back  against  the  buggy,  completely  unnerved. 
Magnus  put  out  his  hand  as  if  to  grasp  mine,  but  I  did  not 
take  it.  There  went  through  my  head  that  rhyme  of  Jack- 
way's  that  he  hiccoughed  out  as  he  drank  with  his  cronies 
— on  my  money — that  day  last  winter  back  in  Madison: 
"Sold  again,  and  got  the  tin,  and  sucked  another  Dutch 
man  in !"  This  huge  marsh  was  what  John  Rucker,  after 
killing  my  mother,  had  deeded  me  for  my  inheritance ! 

In  that  last  word  I  had  from  her,  the  poor  stained 
letter  she  left  in  the  apple-tree — perhaps  it  was  her  tears, 
and  not  the  rain  that  had  stained  it  so — she  had  said :  "I 
am  going  very  far  away,  and  if  you  ever  see  this,  keep  it 
always,  and  whenever  you  see  it  remember  that  I  would 
always  have  died  willingly  for  you,  and  that  I  am  going 
to  build  up  for  you  a  fortune  which  will  give  you  a  better 
life  than  I  have  lived."  And  this  was  the  fortune  which 
she  had  built  up  for  me !  I  hated  myself  for  having  been 
gulled — it  seemed  as  if  I  had  allowed  my  mother  to  be 
cheated  more  than  myself.  Good  land,  I  thought,  was 
selling  in  Monterey  County  for  two  dollars  an  acre.  The 
next  summer  when  I  bought  an  eighty  across  the  road  so 
as  to  have  more  plow-land,  I  paid  three  dollars  and  a  half 
an  acre,  and  sorrowed  over  it  afterward:  for  in  1857  I 
could  have  got  all  I  wanted  of  the  best  land — if  I  had 


HELL  SLEW  223 

had  the  money,  which  I  had  not — at  a  dollar  and  a  quar 
ter.  At  the  going  price  then,  in  1855,  this  section  of  land, 
if  it  had  been  good  land,  would  have  been  worth  only 
twelve  or  thirteen  hundred  dollars.  At  that  rate,  what 
was  this  swamp  worth  ?  Nothing ! 

I  can  still  feel  sorry  for  that  poor  boy,  myself,  green 
as  grass,  and  without  a  friend  in  the  world  to  whom  he 
could  go  for  advice,  halted  in  his  one-sided  battle  with 
the  world,  out  there  on  the  bare  prairie,  looking  out  on 
what  he  thought  was  the  scene  of  his  ruin,  and  thinking 
that  every  man's  hand  had  been  against  him,  and  would 
always  be.  Where  were  now  all  my  dreams  of  fat  cattle, 
sleek  horses,  waddling  hogs,  and  the  fine  house  in  which 
I  had  had  so  many  visions  of  spending  my  life,  with  a 
more  or  less  clearly-seen  wife — especially  during  those 
days  after  Rowena  Fewkes  had  told  me  how  well  she 
could  cook,  and  proved  it  by  getting  me  my  breakfast ;  and 
the  later  days  of  my  stay  in  the  Grove  of  Destiny  with 
Virginia  Royall.  Any  open  prairie  farm,  with  no  house, 
nothing  with  which  to  make  a  house,  and  no  home  but  a 
wagon,  and  no  companions  but  my  cows  would  have  been 
rather  forbidding  at  first  glance ;  but  this — I  was  certain 
I  was  ruined ;  I  suppose  I  must  have  looked  a  little  bad, 
for  Henderson  L.  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"Don't  cave  in,  my  boy,"  said  he.  "You're  young — 
and  there's  oceans  of  good  land  to  be  had.  Keep  a  stiff 
upper  lip !" 

"I'll  kill  him!"    I  shouted.    "I'll  kill  John  Rucker!" 

"Don't,  till  you  catch  him,"  said  Burns.  "And  what 
good  would  it  do  anyhow  ?" 

"Is  there  any  plow-land  on  it?"  I  asked,  after  getting 
control  of  myself. 


224  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Some,"  said  Henderson  L.  cheerfully.  "Don't  you 
remember  that  we  drove  up  over  a  spur  of  the  hill  back 
there  ?  Well,  all  the  dry  land  north  of  our  track  is  yours. 
Finest  building-spot  in  the  world,  Jake.  We'll  make  a 
farm  of  this  yet.  Come  back  and  I'll  show  you." 


So  we  went  back  and  looked  over  all  the  dry  ground 
I  possessed,  and  agreed  that  there  were  about  forty 
acres  of  it,  and  as  Burns  insisted,  sixty  in  a  dry  season ; 
and  he  stuck  to  it  that  a  lot  of  that  slew  was  as  good 
pasture  especially  in  a  dry  time  as  any  one  could  ask  for. 
This  would  be  fine  for  a  man  as  fond  of  cows  as  I  was, 
though,  of  course,  cows  could  range  at  will  all  over  the 
country.  It  was  fine  hay  land,  he  said,  too,  except  in  the 
wettest  places ;  but  it  was  true  also,  that  any  one  could 
make  hay  anywhere. 

I  paid  Henderson  L.,  bade  good-by  to  Magnus 
Thorkelson,  drove  my  outfit  up  on  the  "building- 
spot,"  and  camped  right  where  my  biggest  silo  now 
stands.  I  sat  there  all  the  afternoon,  not  even  unhitching 
my  teams,  listening  as  the  afternoon  drew  on  toward 
night,  to  the  bitterns  crying  "plum  pudd'n'  "  from  the 
marsh,  to  the  queer  calls  of  the  water-rail,  and  to  the  long- 
drawn  "whe-e-ep — whe-e-e-ew !"  of  the  curlews,  as  they 
alighted  on  the  prairie  and  stretched  their  wings  up  over 
their  backs. 

I  could  never  be  much  of  a  man,  I  thought,  on  a 
forty-acre  farm,  nor  build  much  of  a  house.  I  had 
come  all  the  way  from  York  State  for  this!  The 
bubble  had  grown  brighter  and  brighter  as  I  had 
made  my  strange  way  across  the  new  lands,  putting  on 


HELL  SLEW  225 

more  and  more  of  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  now,  all 
had  ended  in  this  spot  of  water  on  the  floor  of  the  earth. 
I  compared  myself  with  the  Fewkeses,  as  I  remembered 
how  I  had  told  Virginia  just  how  the  rooms  of  the  house 
should  be  arranged,  and  allowed  her  to  change  the 
arrangement  whenever  she  desired,  and  even  to  put  great 
white  columns  in  front  as  she  said  they  did  in  Kentucky. 
We  had  agreed  as  to  just  what  trees  should  be  set  out, 
and  what  flowers  should  be  planted  in  the  blue-grass 
lawn. 

All  this  was  gone  glimmering  now — and  yet  as  I 
sit  here,  there  are  the  trees,  and  there  are  the  flowers, 
very  much  as  planned,  in  the  soft  blue-grass  lawn ;  about 
the  only  thing  lacking  being  the  white  columns. 

I  was  lying  on  the  ground,  looking  out  across  the 
marsh,  and  as  my  misfortunes  all  rolled  back  over  my 
mind  I  turned  on  my  face  and  cried  like  a  baby.  Finally, 
I  felt  a  large  light  hand  laid  softly  on  my  head.  I  looked 
up  and  saw  Magnus  Thorkelson  bending  over  me. 

"Forty  acres,"  said  he,  "bane  pretty  big  farm  in  Nor- 
vay.  My  fadder  on  twenty  acres,  raise  ten  shildren.  Not 
so  gude  land  like  dis.  Vun  of  dem  shildern  bane  college 
professor,  and  vun  a  big  man  in  leggislatur.  Forty  acre 
bane  gude  farm,  for  gude  farmer." 

I  turned  over,  wiped  my  sleeve  across  my  eyes,  and 
sat  up. 

"I  guess  I  dropped  asleep,"  I  said. 

"Yass,"  he  said.  "You  bane  sleep  long  time.  I  came 
back  to  ask  if  I  stay  vith  you.  I  halp  you.  You  halp  me. 
Ve  halp  each  udder.  Ve  be  neighbors  alvays.  I  get  farm 
next  you.  I  halp  you  build  house,  an'  you  halp  me. 
Maybe  ve  lif  togedder  till  you  git  vooman,  or  I  git  voo 


226  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

man — if  American  vooman  marry  Norwegian  man.  I 
stay?" 

I  took  his  hand  and  pressed  it.  After  a  few  days' 
studying  over  it,  I  made  up  my  mind  that  in  the  kindness 
of  his  heart  he  had  come  back  just  to  comfort  me.  And 
all  that  he  had  said  we  would  do,  we  did.  Before  long  we 
had  a  warm  dugout  barn  built  in  the  eastern  slope  of  the 
hillside,  partly  sheltered  from  the  northwestern  winds, 
and  Magnus  and  I  slept  in  one  end  of  it  on  the  sweet  hay 
we  cut  in  the  marsh  while  the  cows  ranged  on  the  prairie. 
Together  we  broke  prairie,  first  on  his  land,  then  on  mine. 
Together  we  hauled  lumber  from  the  river  for  my  first 
little  house. 

If  we  first  settlers  in  Iowa  had  possessed  the  sense  the 
Lord  gives  to  most,  we  could  have  built  better  and 
warmer,  and  prettier  houses  than  the  ones  we  put  up,  ol 
the  prairie  sod  which  we  ripped  up  in  long  black  ribbons 
of  earth ;  but  we  all  were  from  lands  of  forests,  and  it 
took  a  generation  to  teach  our  prairie  pioneers  that  a  sod 
house  is  a  good  house.  I  never  saw  any  until  the  last  of 
Iowa  was  settling  up,  out  in  the  northwestern  part  of  the 
state,  in  Lyon,  Sioux  and  Clay  Counties. 

All  that  summer,  every  wagon  and  draught  animal  in 
Monterey  County  was  engaged  in  hauling  lumber — some 
of  it  such  poor  stuff  as  basswood  sawed  in  little  sawmills 
along  the  rivers ;  and  it  was  not  until  in  the  'eighties  that 
the  popular  song,  The  Little  Old  Sod  Shanty  on  the  Claim 
proved  two  things — that  the  American  pioneer  had 
learned  to  build  with  something  besides  timber,  and  that 
the  Homestead  Law  had  come  into  effect.  What  Magnus 
and  I  were  doing,  all  the  settlers  on  the  Monterey  County 
farms  were  doing — raising  sod  corn  and  potatoes  and 


HELL  SLEW  227 

buckwheat  and  turnips,  preparing  shelter  for  the  winter, 
and  wondering  what  they  would  do  for  fuel.  Magnus 
helped  me  and  I  helped  him. 

A  lot  is  said  nowadays  about  the  Americanization  of 
the  foreigner;  but  the  only  thing  that  will  do  the  thing 
is  to  work  with  the  foreigner,  as  I  worked  with  Magnus 
— let  him  help  me,  and  be  active  in  helping  him.  The 
Americanization  motto  is,  "Look  upon  the  foreigner  as  an 
equal.  Help  him.  Let  him  help  you.  Make  each  other's 
problems  mutual  problems — and  then  he  is  no  longer  a 
foreigner."  When  Magnus  Thorkelson  came  back  on 
foot  across  the  prairie  from  Monterey  Centre,  to  lay  his 
hand  on  the  head  of  that  weeping  boy  alone  on  the  prairie, 
and  to  offer  to  live  with  him  and  help  him,  his  English 
was  good  enough  for  me,  and  to  me  he  was  as  fully  nat 
uralized  as  if  all  the  judges  in  the  world  had  made  him 
lift  his  hand  while  he  swore  to  support  the  Constitution 
of  the  United  States  and  oi  the  State  of  Iowa.  He  was 
a  good  enough  American  for  Jacobus  Teunis  Vandemark. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  PLOW   WEDS  THE  SOD 

TTHE  next  day  was  a  wedding-day — the  marriage 
•••  morning  of  the  plow  and  the  sod.  It  marked  the 
beginning  of  the  subdual  of  that  wonderful  wild  prairie 
of  Vandemark  Township  and  the  Vandemark  farm.  No 
more  fruitful  espousal  ever  took  place  than  that — when 
the  polished  steel  of  my  new  breaking  plow  was  em 
braced  by  the  black  soil  with  its  lovely  fell  of  greenery. 
Up  to  that  fateful  moment,  the  prairie  of  the  farm  and 
of  the  township  had  been  virgin  sod ;  but  now  it  bowed 
its  neck  to  the  yoke  of  wedlock.  Nothing  like  it  takes 
place  any  more ;  for  the  sod  of  the  meadows  and  pastures 
is  quite  a  different  thing  from  the  untouched  skin  of  the 
original  earth.  Breaking  prairie  was  the  most  beauti|ul, 
the  most  epochal,  and  most  hopeful,  and  as  I  look  back 
at  it,  in  one  way  the  most  pathetic  thing  man  ever  did, 
for  in  it,  one  of  the  loveliest  things  ever  created  began 
to  come  to  its  predestined  end. 

The  plow  itself  was  long,  low,  and  yacht-like  in  form ; 
a  curved  blade  of  polished  steel.  The  plowman  walked 
behind  it  in  a  clean  new  path,  sheared  as  smooth  as  a 
concrete  pavement,  with  not  a  lump  of  crumbled  earth 
under  his  feet — a  cool,  moist,  black  path  of  richness. 
The  furrow-slice  was  a  long,  almost  unbroken  ribbon  of 

228 


THE  PLOW  WEDS  THE  SOD  229 

turf,  each  one  laid  smoothly  against  the  former  strand, 
and  under  it  lay  crumpled  and  crushed  the  layer  of 
grass  and  flowers.  The  plow-point  was  long  and  taper 
ing,  like  the  prow  of  a  clipper,  and  ran  far  out  under  the 
beam,  and  above  it  was  the  rolling  colter,  a  circular 
blade  of  steel,  which  cut  the  edge  of  the  furrow  as  cleanly 
as  cheese.  The  lay  of  the  plow,  filed  sharp  at  every 
round,  lay  flat,  and  clove  the  slice  neatly  from  the  bosom 
of  earth  where  it  had  lain  from  the  beginning  of  time.  As 
the  team  steadily  pulled  the  machine  along,  I  heard  a  cu 
rious  thrilling  sound  as  the  knife  went  through  the  roots, 
a  sort  of  murmuring  as  of  protest  at  this  violation — and 
once  in  a  while,  the  whole  engine,  and  the  arms  of  the 
plowman  also,  felt  a  jar,  like  that  of  a  ship  striking  a 
hidden  rock,  as  the  share  cut  through  a  red-root — a  stout 
root  of  wood,  like  red  cedar  or  mahogany,  sometimes  as 
large  as  one's  arm,  topped  with  a  clump  of  tough  twigs 
with  clusters  of  pretty  whitish  blossoms. 

As  I  looked  back  at  the  results  of  my  day's  work,  my 
spirits  rose;  for  in  the  East,  a  man  might  have  worked 
all  summer  long  to  clear  as  much  land  as  I  had  prepared 
for  a  crop  on  that  first  day.  This  morning  it  had  been 
wilderness ;  now  it  was  a  field — a  field  in  which  Magnus 
Thorkelson  had  planted  corn,  by  the  simple  process  of 
cutting  through  the  sods  with  an  ax,  and  dropping  in 
each  opening  thus  made  three  kernels  of  corn.  Surely 
this  was  a  new  world!  Surely,  this  was  a  world  in 
which  a  man  with  the  will  to  do  might  make  something 
of  himself.  No  waiting  for  the  long  processes  by  which 
the  forests  were  reclaimed ;  but  a  new  world  with  new 
processes,  new  neighbors,  new  ideas,  new  opportunities, 
new  victories  easily  gained. 


23o  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Not  so  easy,  Jacobus!  In  the  first  place,  we  Iowa 
pioneers  so  ignorant  of  our  opportunities  that  we  hauled 
timber  a  hundred  miles  with  which  to  build  our  houses, 
when  that  black  sod  would  have  made  us  better  ones, 
were  also  so  foolish  as  to  waste  a  whole  year  of  the  time 
of  that  land  which  panted  to  produce.  To  be  sure,  we 
grew  some  sod-corn,  and  some  sod-potatoes,  and  sowed 
some  turnips  and  buckwheat  on  the  new  breaking;  but 
after  my  hair  was  gray,  I  found  out,  for  the  first  time  as 
we  all  did,  that  a  fine  crop  of  flax  might  have  been 
grown  that  first  year.  Dakota  taught  us  that.  But  the 
farmer  of  old  was  inured  to  waiting — and  so  we  waited 
until  another  spring  for  the  sod  to  rot,  and  in  the  mean 
time,  it  grew  great  crops  of  tumble-weeds,  which  in  the 
fall  raced  over  the  plain  like  scurrying  scared  wolves, 
piling  up  in  brown  mountains  against  every  obstacle,  and 
in  every  hole.  If  we  had  only  known  these  simple  things, 
what  would  it  have  saved  us!  But  skill  grows  slowly. 
We  were  the  first  prairie  generation  bred  of  a  line  of 
foresters,  and  were  a  little  like  the  fools  that  came  to 
Virginia  and  Plymouth  Colony,  who  starved  in  a  country 
filled  with  food.  How  many  fool  things  are  we  doing 
now,  I  wonder,  to  cause  posterity  to  laugh,  as  foolish  as 
the  dying  of  Sir  John  Franklin  in  a  land  where  Stefans- 
son  grew  fat;  many,  I  guess,  as  foolish  as  we  did  when 
Magnus  Thorkelson  and  I  were  Vandemark  Township. 

The  sod  grew  too  mature  for  breaking  after  the  first 
of  June,  and  not  enough  time  was  left  for  it  to  rot  during 
the  summer ;  and  my  cows  left  with  Mr.  Westervelt  were 
on  my  mind;  so  I  stopped  the  plow  and  after  Magnus 
and  I  had  built  my  house  and  made  a  lot  of  hay  in  the 
marsh,  I  began  to  think  of  going  back  after  my  live  stock. 


THE  PLOW  WEDS  THE  SOD      231 

I  planned  to  travel  light  \vith  one  span  to  Westervelt's, 
pick  up  another  yoke  of  cows,  go  on  to  Dubuque  for  a 
load  of  freight  for  Monterey  Centre,  and  come  back, 
bringing  the  rest  of  my  herd  with  me  on  the  return. 
When  I  went  to  "the  Centre,"  as  we  called  it,  I  waited 
until  I  saw  Grandma  Thorndyke  go  down  to  the  store, 
and  then  tapped  at  their  door.  I  thought  they  might 
want  me  to  bring  them  something.  They  were  living  in 
a  little  house  by  the  public  square,  where  the  great  sugar 
maples  stand  now.  These  trees  were  then  little  bean 
poles  with  tufts  of  twigs  at  the  tops. 


Virginia  Royall  came  to  the  door,  as  I  sort  of  sus 
pected  she  might.  At  first  she  started  back  as  if  she 
hardly  knew  me.  Maybe  she  didn,'t ;  for  Magnus  Thor- 
kelson  had  got  me  to  shaving,  and  with  all  that  gosling's 
down  off  my  face,  I  suppose  I  looked  older  and  more 
man-like  than  before.  So  she  took  a  long  look  at  me, 
and  then  ran  to  me  and  took  both  my  hands  in  hers  and 
pressed  them — pressed  them  so  that  I  remembered  it 
always. 

"Why,  Teunis,"  she  cried,  "is  it  you?  I  thought  I 
was  never  going  to  see  you  again !" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "it's  me— it's  me.  I  came "  and 

then  I  stopped,  bogged  down. 

"You  came  to  see  me,"  she  said,  "and  I  think  you've 
waited  long  enough.  Only  three  friends  in  the  world, 
you,  and  Mrs.  Thorndyke,  and  Mr.  Thorndyke — and  you 
off  there  on  the  prairie  all  these  weeks  and  never  came 
to  see  me — or  us !  Tell  me  about  the  farm,  a^d  the  cows, 


232  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  the  new  house — I've  heard  of  it — and  your  foreigner 
friend,  and  all  about  it.  Have  you  any  little  calves?" 

I  was  able  to  report  that  Spot,  the  heifer  that  we  had 
such  a  time  driving,  had  a  little  calf  that  was  going  to 
look  just  like  its  mother ;  and  then  I  described  to  her  the 
section  of  land — all  but  a  little  of  it  down  in  Hell  Slew ; 
and  how  I  hoped  to  buy  a  piece  across  the  line  so  as  to 
have  a  real  farm.  Pretty  soon  we  were  talking  just  as 
we  used  to  talk  back  there  east  of  Waterloo. 

"I  came  to  see  you  and  Elder  Thorndyke  and  his 
wife,"  I  said,  "because  I'm  going  back  to  Dubuque  to 
get  a  load  of  freight,  and  I  thought  I  might  bring  some 
thing  for  you." 

"Oh,"  said  she,  "take  me  with  you,  Teunis,  take  me 
with  you!" 

"Could  you  go?"  I  asked,  my  heart  in  my  mouth. 

"No,  oh,  no!"  she  said.  "There's  nobody  in  Ken 
tucky  for  me  to  go  to ;  and  I  haven't  any  money  to  pay 
my  way  with  anyhow.  I  am  alone  in  the  world,  Teunis, 
except  for  you  and  my  new  father  and  mother — and  I'm 
afraid  they  are  pretty  poor,  Teunis,  to  feed  and  clothe  a 
big  girl  like  me !" 

"How  much  money  would  it  take  ?"  I  asked.  "I  guess 
I  could  raise  it  for  you,  Virginia." 

"You're  a  nice  boy,  Teunis,"  she  said,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  "and  I  know  how  well  you  like  money,  too ;  but 
there's  nobody  left  there.  I'm  very  lonely — but  I'm  as 
well  off  here  as  anywhere.  I'd  just  like  to  go  with  yon, 
though,  for  when  I'm  with  you  I  feel  so — so  safe." 

"Safe?"  said  I.  "Why  aren't  you  safe  here?  Is 
any  one  threatening  you?  Has  Buckner  Gcwdy  been 


THE  PLOW  WEDS  THE  SOD  233 

around  here?    Just  tell  me  if  he  bothers  you,  and  I'll — 
I'll— 

"Well,"  said  she,  "he  came  here  and  claimed  me  from 
Mr.  Thorndyke.  He  said  I  was  an  infant — what  do  you 
think  of  that  ? — an  infant — in  law ;  and  that  he  is  my 
guardian.  And  a  lawyer  named  Creede,  came  and  talked 
about  his  right,  not  he  said  by  consanguinity,  but  affinity, 
whatever  that  is " 

"I  know  Mr.  Creede,"  said  I.  "He  rode  with  me  for 
two  or  three  days.  I  don't  believe  he'll  wrong  any  one." 

"Mrs.  Thorndyke  told  them  to  try  their  affinity  plan 
if  they  dared,  and  she'd  show  them  that  they  couldn't 
drag  a  poor  orphan  away  from  her  friends  against  her 
will.  And  I  hung  to  her,  and  I  cried,  and  said  I'd  kill 
myself  before  I'd  go  with  him ;  and  that  man" — meaning 
Gowdy — "tried  to  talk  sweet  and  affectionate  and 
brotherly  to  me,  and  I  hid  my  face  in  Mrs.  Thorndyke's 
bosom — and  Mr.  Creede  looked  as  if  he  were  sick  of  his 
case,  and  told  that  man  that  he  would  like  further  con 
sultation  with  him  before  proceeding  further — and  they 
went  away.  But  every  time  I  see  that  man  he  acts  as  if 
he  wanted  to  talk  with  me,  and  smiles  at  me — but  I 
won't  look  at  him.  Oh,  why  can't  they  all  be  good  like 
you,  Teunis?" 

Then  she  told  me  that  I  looked  a  lot  better  when  I 
shaved — at  which  I  blushed  like  everything,  and  this 
seemed  to  tickle  her  very  much.  Then  she  asked  if  I 
wasn't  surprised  when  she  called  me  Teunis.  She  had 
thought  a  good  deal  over  it,  she  said,  and  she  couldn't, 
couldn't  like  the  name  of  Jacob,  or  Jake ;  but  Teunis  was 
a  quality  name.  Didn't  I  think  I'd  like  it  if  I  changed 
my  wav  of  writing  my  name  to  J.  Teunis  Vandemark? 


234  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"I  like  to  have  you  call  me  Teunis,"  I  said ;  "but  I 
wouldn't  like  to  have  any  one  else  do  it.  I  like  to  have 
you  have  a  name  to  call  me  by  that  nobody  else  uses." 

"That's  a  very  gallant  speech,"  she  said,  blushing — 
and  I  vow,  I  didn't  know  what  gallant  meant,  and  was  a 
little  flustered  for  fear  her  blushes  were  called  out  by 
something  shady. 

"Besides,"  I  said,  "I  have  always  heard  that  nobody 
but  a  dandy  ever  parts  his  name  or  his  hair  in  the 
middle!" 

"Rubbish!"  said  she.  "My  father's  name  was  A. 
Fletcher  Royall,  and  he  was  a  big  strong  man,  every  inch 
of  him.  I  reckon,  though,  that  the  customs  are  different 
in  the  North.  Then  you  won't  take  me  with  you,  and 
go  back  by  way  of  our  grove,  and " 

And  just  then  Elder  Thorn  dyke  came  in,  and  we 
wished  that  Mrs.  Thorndyke  would  come  to  tell  what  I 
should  bring  from  Dubuque.  He  told  me  in  the  mean 
time,  about  his  plans  for  building  a  church,  and  how  he 
was  teaching  Virginia,  so  that  she  could  be  a  teacher 
herself  when  she  was  old  enough. 

"We'll  be  filling  this  country  with  schools,  soon,"  he 
said,  "and  they'll  want  nice  teachers  like  Virginia." 

"Won't  that  be  fine?"  asked  Virginia.  "I  just  love 
children.  I  play  with  dolls  now — a  little.  And  then  I 
can  do  something  to  repay  my  new  father  and  mother 
for  all  they  are  doing  for  me.  And  you  must  come  to 
church,  Teunis." 

"Virginia  says,"  said  the  elder,  "that  you  have  a  good 
voice.  I  wish  yourd  come  and  help  out  with  the  singing." 

"Oh,  I  can't  sing,"  I  demurred ;  "but  I'd  like  to  come. 
I  will  come,  when  I  get  back." 


THE  PLOW  WEDS  THE  SOD      235 

"Yes,  you  can  sing,"  said  Virginia.  "Here's  a  song 
he  taught  me  back  on  the  prairie : 

'•  'Down  the  river,  O  down  the  river,  O  down  the  river 

we  go-o-o; 
Down  the  river,  O  down  the  river,  O  down  the  Ohio-o-o ! 

"  The  river  was  up,  the  channel  was  deep,  the  wind  was 

steady  and  strong, 
The  waves  they  dashed  from  shore  to  shore  as  we  went 

sailing  along 

"  'Down  the  river,  O  down  the  river,  O  down  the  river 

we  go-o-o; 
Down    the    river,    O    down    the    river,    O    down    the 

Ohio-o-o  T" 

"I  think  you  learned  a  good  deal — for  one  day,"  said 
Mrs.  Thorndyke,  coming  in.  "How  do  you  do,  Jacob? 
I'm  glad  to  see  you." 

Thus  she  again  put  forth  her  theory  that  Virginia 
and  I  had  been  together  only  one  day.  It  is  what  N.  V. 
Creede  called,  when  I  told  him  of  it  years  afterward,  "a 
legal  fiction  which  for  purposes  of  pleading  was  incon 
trovertible." 

The  river  of  immigration  was  still  flowing  west  over 
the  Ridge  Road,  quite  as  strong  as  earlier  in  the 
season,  and  swollen  by  the  stream  of  traffic  setting  to 
and  from  the  settlements  for  freight.  People  I  met  told 
me  that  the  railroad  was  building  into  Dubuque — or  at 
least  to  the  river  at  Dunlieth.  I  met  loads  of  lumber 
which  were  going  out  for  Buck  Gowdy's  big  house  away 
out  in  the  middle  of  his  great  estate ;  and  other  loads  for 
Lithopolis,  where  Judge  Stone  was  making  his  struggle 
to  build  up  a  rival  to  Monterey  Centre.  I  reached  Du- 


236  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

buque  on  the  seventeenth  of  July,  and  put  up  at  a  tavern 
down  near  the  river,  where  they  had  room  for  my  stock ; 
and  learned  that  the  next  day  the  first  train  would  arrive 
at  Dunlieth,  and  there  was  to  be  a  great  celebration. 

It  was  the  greatest  day  Dubuque  had  ever  seen,  they 
told  me,  with  cannon  fired  from  the  bluff  at  sunrise,  a 
long  parade,  much  speech-making,  and  a  lot  of  wild 
drunkenness.  The  boatmen  from  the  river  boats  started 
in  to  lick  every  railroad  man  they  met,  and  as  far  as  I 
could  see,  did  so  in  ninety  per  cent,  of  the  cases ;  but  in 
the  midst  of  a  fight  in  which  all  my  canal  experiences 
were  in  a  fair  way  to  be  outdone,  a  woman  came  into  the 
crowd  leading  four  little  crying  children.  She  asked  our 
attention  while  she  explained  that  their  father  had  had 
his  hand  blown  off  when  the  salute  was  fired  in  the 
morning,  and  asked  us  if  we  felt  like  giving  something 
to  him  to  enable  him  to  keep  a  roof  over  these  little  ones. 
The  fight  stopped,  and  we  all  threw  money  on  the  ground 
in  the  ring. 

There  were  bridges  connecting  the  main  island  with 
the  business  part  of  the  city,  and  lines  of  hacks  and  carts 
running  from  the  main  part  of  the  town  to  deep  water. 
There  were  from  four  to  six  boats  a  day  on  the  river. 
Lead  was  the  main  item  of  freight,  although  the  first 
tricklings  of  the  great  flood  of  Iowa  and  Illinois  wheat 
were  beginning  to  run  the  metal  a  close  second.  To  show 
what  an  event  it  was,  I  need  only  say  that  there  were 
delegates  at  the  celebration  from  as  far  east  as  Cleveland ; 
and  folks  said  that  a  ferry  was  to  be  built  to  bring  the 
railway  trains  into  Dubuque.  And  the  best  of  all  these 
dreams  was,  that  they  came  true ;  and  we  were  before 
many  years  freed  of  the  great  burden  of  coming  so  far 
to  market. 


THE  PLOW  WEDS  THE  SOD  237 

During  the  next  winter  the  word  came  to  us  that  the 
railroad — another  one — had  crept  as  far  out  into  the 
state  as  Iowa  City,  and  when  the  freighting  season  of 
1856  opened  up,  we  swung  off  to  the  railhead  there. 
Soon,  however,  the  road  was  at  Manchester,  then  at 
Waterloo,  then  at  Cedar  Falls,  and  before  many  years 
the  Iowa  Central  came  up  from  the  south  clear  to  Mason 
City,  and  the  days  of  long-distance  freighting  were  over 
for  most  of  the  state;  which  is  now  better  provided 
with  railways,  I  suppose,  than  any  other  agricultural 
region  in  the  world. 

I  couldn't  then  foresee  any  such  thing,  however. 
They  talk  of  the  far-sighted  pioneers;  but  as  far  as  I 
was  concerned  I  didn't  know  B  from  a  bull's  foot  in  this 
business  of  the  progress  of  the  country.  I  whoa-hawed 
and  gee-upped  my  way  back  to  Monterey  Centre,  think 
ing  how  great  a  disadvantage  it  would  be  always  to  have 
to  wagon  it  back  and  forth  to  the  river — with  the  build 
ing  of  the  railway  into  Dunlieth  that  year  right  before 
my  face  and  eyes. 

3 

I  found  Magnus  Thorkelson  surrounded  by  a  group 
of  people  arguing  with  him  about  something;  and  Mag 
nus  in  a  dreadful  pucker  to  know  what  to  do.  In  one 
group  were  Judge  Horace  Stone,  N.  V.  Creede  and  For 
rest  Bushyager,  then  a  middle-aged  man,  and  an  active 
young  fellow  of  twenty-five  or  so  named  Dick  McGill, 
afterward  for  many  years  the  editor  of  the  Monterey 
Centre  Journal.  These  had  a  petition  asking  that  the 
county-seat  be  located  at  Lithopolis,  Judge  Stone's  new 
town,  and  they  wanted  Magnus  to  sign  it.  I  suppose  he 
would  have  done  so,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  other  dele- 


238  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

gation,  consisting  of  Henderson  L.  Burns  and  Doctor 
Bliven,  who  had  another  petition  asking  for  the  establish 
ment  of  the  county-seat  permanently  "at  its  present  site," 
Monterey  Centre.  They  took  me  into  the  confabulation 
as  soon  as  I  weighed  anchor  in  front  of  the  house ;  and 
just  as  they  had  begun  to  pour  their  arguments  into  me 
they  were  joined  by  another  man,  who  drove  up  in  a  two- 
seated  democrat  wagon  drawn  by  a  fine  team  of  black 
horses,  and  in  the  back  seat  I  saw  a  man  and  woman 
sitting.  I  thought  the  man  looked  like  Elder  Thorndyke ; 
but  the  woman's  face  was  turned  away  from  me,  and  I 
did  not  recognize  her  at  first.  She  had  on  a  new  calico 
dress  that  I  hadn't  seen  before.  It  was  Virginia. 

The  man  who  got  out  and  joined  the  group  was  a 
red-faced,  hard-visaged  man  of  about  fifty,  dressed  in 
black  broadcloth,  and  wearing  a  beaver  hat.  He  had  a 
black  silk  cravat  tied  about  a  standing  collar,  with  high 
points  that  rolled  out  in  front,  and  he  looked  rich  and 
domineering.  He  was  ever  afterward  a  big  man  in 
Monterey  County,  and  always  went  by  the  name  of  Gov 
ernor  Wade,  because  he  was  a  candidate  for  governor 
two  or  three  times.  He  was  the  owner  of  a  big  tract  of 
land  over  to  the  southwest,  next  to  the  Gowdy  farm  the 
largest  in  the  county.  He  came  striding  over  to  us  as  if 
whatever  he  said  was  the  end  of  the  law.  With  him  and 
Henderson  L.  and  N.  V.  Creede  pitching  into  a  leather- 
head  like  me,  no  wonder  I  did  not  recognize  Virginia  in 
her  new  dress ;  I  was  in  such  a  stew  that  I  hardly  knew 
which  end  my  head  was  on. 

Each  side  seemed  to  want  to  impress  me  with  the  fact 
that  in  signing  one  or  the  other  of  those  petitions  I  had 
come  to  the  parting  of  the  ways.  They  did  not  say  much 


THE  PLOW  WEDS  THE  SOD      239 

about  what  was  best  for  the  county,  but  bore  down  on 
the  fact  that  the  way  I  lined  up  on  that  great  question 
would  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world  with  me. 
Each  tried  to  make  me  think  that  I  should  always  be  an 
outsider  and  a  maverick  if  I  didn't  stand  with  his  crowd. 

"Why,"  said  N.  V.,  "I  feel  sure  that  it  won't  take  you 
long  to  make  up  your  mind.  This  little  group  of  men  we 
have  here,"  pointing  to  Henderson  L.  and  Governor 
Wade,  "are  the  County  Ring  that's  trying  to  get  this  new 
county  in  their  clutches — the  County  Ring!" 

This  made  a  little  grain  of  an  impression  on  me ;  and 
it  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  heard  the  expression  so 
common  in  local  history  "the  County  Ring."  I  looked  at 
Governor  Wade  to  see  what  he  would  say  to  it.  His  face 
grew  redder,  and  he  laughed  as  if  Creede  were  not  worth 
noticing ;  but  he  noticed  him  for  all  that. 

"Young  man,"  said  he,  "or  young  men,  I  should  say, 
both  of  you  want  to  be  somebody  in  this  new  community. 
Monterey  Centre  represents  already,  the  brains 

"Like  a  dollar  sign,"  said  Dick  McGill,  "it  represents 
it,  but  it  hasn't  any." 

" the  brains,"  went  on  Governor  Wade,  glaring 

at  him,  "the  culture,  the  progress  and  the  wealth " 

"That  they  hope  to  steal,"  put  in  Dick  McGill. 

" the  wealth,"  went  on  the  Governor,  who  hated 

to  be  interrupted,  "of  this  Gem  of  the  Prairies,  Monterey 
County.  Don't  make  the  mistake,  which  you  can  never 
correct,  of  taking  sides  with  this  little  gang  of  town-site 
sharks  led  by  my  good  friend  Judge  Stone." 

Here  was  another  word  which  I  was  to  hear  pretty 
often  in  county  politics — Gang.  One  crowd  was  called 
a  Ring ;  the  other  a  Gang.  I  looked  at  N.  V.  to  see  how 


240  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

wrathy  he  must  be,  but  he  only  smiled  sarcastically,  as  I 
have  often  seen  him  do  in  court ;  and  shaking  his  head  at 
me  waved  his  hand  as  if  putting  Governor  Wade  quite 
off  the  map.  Just  then  my  team  began  acting  up — they 
had  not  been  unhitched  and  were  thirsty  and  hungry; 
and  I  went  over  to  straighten  them  out,  leaving  the  Ring 
and  the  Gang  laboring  with  Magnus,  who  was  sweating 
freely — and  then  I  went  over  to  speak  with  the  elder. 

"How  do  you  do,  Teunis  ?"  said  Virginia  very  sweetly. 
"You'll  sign  our  petition,  won't  you?" 

"We  don't  want  to  influence  your  judgment,"  said 
the  elder,  "but  I  wanted  to  say  to  you  that  if  the  county- 
seat  remains  at  Monterey  Centre,  it  will  be  a  great  thing 
for  the  religious  work  which  under  God  I  hope  to  do. 
It  will  give  me  a  parish.  I  should  like  to  urge  that  upon 
you." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  sign  it?"  I  asked  him,  looking 
at  Virginia. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "if  you  have  no  objection." 

"Please  do!"  said  Virginia.  "I  know  you  can't  have 
any  objection." 

I  turned  on  my  heel,  went  back  to  Governor  Wade, 
and  signed  the  petition  for  Monterey  Centre;  and  then 
Magnus  Thorkelson  did  the  same.  Then  we  both  signed 
another  petition  carried  by  both  parties,  asking  that  an 
election  be  called  by  the  judge  of  the  county  south 
which  had  jurisdiction  over  us,  for  the  election  of 
officers.  And  just  as  I  had  expected  one  side  to  begin 
crowing"  over  the  other,  and  I  had  decided  that  there 
would  be  a  fight,  both  crowds  jumped  into  their  rigs  and 
went  off  over  the  prairie,  very  good  naturedly  it  seemed 
to  me,  after  the  next  settler. 


THE  PLOW  WEDS  THE  SOD      241 

"Jake,"  said  N.  V.,  as  they  turned  their  buggy 
around,  "you'll  make  some  woman  a  damned  good  hus 
band,  some  day !"  and  he  took  off  his  hat  very  politely  to 
Virginia,  who  blushed  as  red  as  the  reddest  rose  then 
blooming  on  the  prairie. 

That  was  the  way  counties  were  organized  in  Iowa. 
It  is  worth  remembering  because  it  was  the  birth  of  self- 
government.  The  people  made  their  counties  and  their 
villages  and  their  townships  as  they  made  their  farms 
and  houses  and  granaries.  Everybody  was  invited  to 
take  part — and  it  was  not  until  long  afterward  that  I 
confessed  to  Magnus  that  I  had  never  once  thought 
when  I  signed  those  petitions  that  I  was  not  yet  a  voter ; 
and  then  he  was  frightened  to  realize  that  he  was  not 
either.  He  had  not  yet  been  naturalized.  The  only  man 
in  the  county  known  to  me  who  took  no  interest  in  the 
contest  was  Buck  Gowdy.  When  Judge  Stone  asked 
him  why,  he  said  he  didn't  give  a  damn.  There  was  too 
much  government  for  him  there  already,  he  said. 

We  did  get  the  election  called,  and  after  we  had 
elected  our  officers  there  was  no  county-seat  for 
them  to  dwell  in ;  so  that  county  judge  off  to  the  soutK 
appointed  a  commission  to  locate  the  county-seat,  which 
after  driving  over  the  country  a  good  deal  and  drinking 
a  lot  of  whisky,  according  to  Dick  McGill,  made  Mon 
terey  Centre  the  county  town,  which  it  still  remains. 
The  Lithopolis  people  gained  one  victory — they  elected 
Judge  Horace  Stone  County  Treasurer.  Within  a  month 
N.  V.  Creede  had  opened  a  law  office  in  Monterey  Cen 
tre,  Dick  McGill  had  begun  the  publication  of  the  Mon 
terey  Centre  Journal  of  fragrant  memory,  Lithopolis  be 
gan  to  advertise  its  stone  quarries,  and  Grizzly  Reed,  an 


242  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

old  California  prospector,  who  had  had  his  ear  torn  off 
by  a  bear  out  in  the  mountains,  began  prospecting  for 
gold  along  the  creek,  and  talking  mysteriously.  The 
sale  of  lots  in  Lithopolis  went  on  faster  than  ever. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

I  BECOME  A   BANDIT  AND  A  TERROR 

YV THEN  General  Weaver  was  running  for  governor,  a 

*»      Populist    worker    called    on    my    friend    Wilbur 

Wheelock,  who  was  then  as  now  a  stock  buyer  at  our  little 

town  of  Ploverdale,  and  asked  him  if  he  were  a  Populist. 

"No,"  said  Wilbur,  "but  I  have  all  the  qualifications, 
sir!" 

"What  do  you  regard  as  the  qualifications  ?"  asked  the 
organizer. 

"I've  run  for  county  office  and  got  beat,"  said  Wilbur : 
"and  that  takes  you  in,  too,  don't  it,  Jake  ?"  he  asked,  turn 
ing  to  me. 

Wilbur,  like  most  of  our  older  people,  has  a  good 
memory.  Most  of  the  folks  hereabouts  had  already  for 
gotten  that  I  was  a  candidate  on  Judge  Stone's  Reform 
and  Anti-Monopoly  ticket,  for  County  Supervisor,  in 
1874,  and  that  I  was  defeated  with  the  rest.  This  was 
the  only  time  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with  politics, 
more  than  to  be  a  delegate  to  the  county  convention  two 
or  three  times.  I  mention  it  here,  because  of  the  chance 
it  gave  Dick  McGill  to  rake  me  over  the  coals  in  his 
scurrilous  paper,  the  Monterey  Centre  Journal,  that  most 
people  have  always  said  was  never  fit  to  enter  a  decent 
home,  but  which  they  always  subscribed  for  and  read  as 
quick  as  it  came. 

243 


244  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Within  fifteen  minutes  after  McGill  got  his  paper  to 
Monterey  Centre  he  and  what  he  had  called  the  County 
Ring  were  as  thick  as  thieves,  and  always  stayed  so  as 
long  as  Dick  had  the  county  printing.  So  when  I  was 
put  on  the  independent  ticket  to  turn  this  ring  out  of  of 
fice,  Dick  went  after  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  horse-thief, 
and  made  a  great  to-do  about  what  he  called  "Cow  Van- 
demark's  criminal  record."  Now  that  I  have  a  chance  to 
put  the  matter  before  the  world  in  print,  I  shall  take  ad 
vantage  of  it ;  for  that  "criminal  record"  is  a  part  of  thrs 
history  of  Vandemark  Township. 

The  story  grew  out  of  my  joining  the  Settlers'  Club  in 
1856.  The  rage  for  land  speculation  was  sweeping  over 
Iowa  like  a  prairie  fire,  getting  things  all  ready  for  the 
great  panic  of  1857  that  I  have  read  of  since,  but  of  which 
I  never  heard  until  long  after  it  was  over.  All  I  knew  was 
that  there  was  a  great  fever  for  buying  and  selling  land 
and  laying  out  and  booming  town-sites — the  sites,  not  the 
towns — and  that  afterward  times  were  very  hard.  The 
speculators  had  bought  up  a  good  part  of  Monterey 
County  by  the  end  of  1856,  and  had  run  the  price  up  as 
high  as  three  dollars  and  a  half  an  acre, 

This  made  it  hard  for  poor  men  who  came  in  expect 
ing  to  get  it  for  a  dollar  and  a  quarter ;  and  a  number  of 
settlers  in  the  township,  as  they  did  all  over  the  state, 
went  on  their  land  relying  on  the  right  to  buy  it  when 
they  could  get  the  money — what  was  called  the  pre 
emption  right.  I  could  see  the  houses  of  William 
Trickey,  Ebenezer  Junkins  and  Absalom  Frost  from  my 
house ;  and  I  knew  that  Peter  and  Amos  Bemisdarfer  and 
Flavins  Bohn,  Dunkards  from  Pennsylvania,  had  located 
farther  south.  All  these  settlers  were  located  south  of 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  245 

Hell  Slew,  which  was  coming  to  be  known  now,  and  was 
afterward  put  down  on  the  map,  as  "Vandemark's  Folly 
Marsh." 

And  now  there  came  into  the  county  and  state  a  class 
of  men  called  "claim-jumpers,"  who  pushed  in  on  the 
claims  of  the  first  comers,  and  stood  ready  to  buy  their 
new  homes  right  out  from  under  them.  It  was  pretty 
hard  on  us  who  had  pushed  on  ahead  of  the  railways,  and 
soaked  in  the  rain  and  frozen  in  the  blizzards,  and  lived 
on  moldy  bacon  and  hulled  corn,  to  lose  our  chance  to 
get  title  to  the  lands  we  had  broken  up  and  built  on.  It 
did  not  take  long  for  a  settler  to  see  in  his  land  a  home 
for  him  and  his  dear  ones,  and  the  generations  to  follow ; 
and  we  felt  a  great  bitterness  toward  these  claim-jumpers, 
who  were  no  better  off  than  we  were. 

My  land  was  paid  for,  such  as  it  was ;  but  when  the 
people  who,  like  me,  had  drailed  out  across  the  prairies 
with  the  last  year's  rush,  came  and  asked  me  to  join  the 
Settlers'  Club  to  run  these  intruders  off,  it  appeared  to 
me  that  it  was  only  a  man's  part  in  me  to  stand  to  it  and 
take  hold  and  do.  I  felt  the  old  urge  of  all  landowners 
to  stand  together  against  the  landless,  I  suppose.  What 
is  title  to  land  anyhow,  but  the  right  of  those  who  have 
it  to  hold  on  to  it  ?  No  man  ever  made  land — except  my 
ancestors,  the  Dutch,  perhaps.  All  men  do  is  to  get  pos 
session  of  it,  and  run  everybody  else  off,  either  with 
clubs,  guns,  or  the  sheriff. 

I  did  not  look  forward  to  all  the  doings  of  the 
Settlers'  Club,  but  I  joined  it,  and  I  have  never  been 
ashamed  of  it,  even  when  Dick  McGill  was  slangwhang- 
ing  me  about  what  we  did.  I  never  knew,  and  I  don't 
know  now,  just  what  the  law  was,  but  I  thought  then,  and 


246  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

I  think  now,  that  the  Settlers'  Club  had  the  right  of  it. 
I  thought  so  the  night  we  went  over  to  run  the  claim- 
jumper  off  Absalom  Frost's  land,  within  a  week  of  my 
joining. 

It  was  over  on  Section  Twenty-seven,  that  the  claim- 
jumper  had  built  a  hut  about  where  the  schoolhouse  now 
is,  with  a  stable  in  one  end  of  it,  and  a- den  in  which  to 
live  in  the  other.  He  was  a  young  man,  with  no  depend 
ents,  and  we  felt  no  compunctions  of  conscience,  that 
dark  night,  when  two  wagon-loads  of  us,  one  of  which 
came  from  the  direction  of  Monterey  Centre,  drove  quietly 
up  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Who's  there  ?"  he  said,  with  a  quiver  in  his  voice. 

"Open  up,  and  find  out !"  said  a  man  in  the  Monterey 
Centre  crowd,  who  seemed  to  take  command  as  a  matter 
of  course.  "Kick  the  door  open,  Dutchy!" 

As  he  said  this  he  stepped  aside,  and  pushed  me  up 
to  the  door.  I  gave  it  a  push  with  my  knee,  and  the 
leader  jerked  me  aside,  just  in  time  to  let  a  charge  of 
shot  pass  my  head. 

"It's  only  a  single-barrel  gun,"  said  he.    "Grab  him !" 

I  was  scared  by  the  report  of  the  gun,  scared  and  mad, 
too,  as  I  clinched  with  the  fellow,  and  threw  him ;  then 
I  pitched  him  out  of  the  door,  when  the  rest  of  them 
threw  him  down  and  began  stripping  him.  At  the  same 
time,  some  one  kindled  a  fire  under  a  kettle  filled  with 
tar,  and  in  a  few  minutes,  they  were  smearing  him  with 
it.  This  looked  like  going  too  far,  to  me,  and  I  stepped 
back — I  couldn't  stand  it  to  see  the  tar  smeared  over  his 
face,  even  if  it  did  look  like  a  map  of  the  devil's  wild 
land,  as  he  kicked  and  scratched  and  tried  to  bite,  swear 
ing  all  the  time  like  a  pirate.  It  seemed  a  degrading  kind 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  247 

of  thing  to  defile  a  human  being  in  that  way.  The  leader 
came  up  to  me  and  said,  "That  was  good  work,  Dutchy. 
Lucky  I  was  right  about  its  being  a  single-barrel,  ain't 
it  ?  Help  get  his  team  hitched  up.  We  want  to  see  him 
well  started." 

"All  right,  Mr.  McGill,"  I  said  ;  for  that  was  his  name, 
now  first  told  in  all  the  history  of  the  county. 

"Shut  up!"  he  said.  "My  name's  Smith,  you  lunk 
head  !" 

Well,  we  let  the  claim-jumper  put  on  his  clothes  over 
the  tar  and  feathers,  and  loaded  his  things  into  his  wagon, 
hitched  up  his  team,  and  whipped  them  up  to  a  run  and 
let  them  go  over  the  prairie.  All  the  time  he  was  swear 
ing1  that  he  would  have  blood  for  this,  but  he  never  stopped 
going  until  he  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 


("What  a  disgraceful  affair]"  says  my  granddaughter 
Gertrude,  as  she  finishes  reading  that  page.  "I'm 
ashamed  of  you,  grandpa;  but  I'm  glad  he  didn't  shoot 
you.  Where  would  I  have  been?"  Well,  it  does  seem 
like  rather  a  shady  transaction  for  me  to  have  been  mixed 
up  in.  The  side  of  it  that  impresses  me,  however,  is  the 
lapse  of  time  as  measured  in  conditions  and  institutions. 
That  was  barbarism  ;  and  it  was  Iowa !  And  it  was  in  my 
lifetime.  It  was  in  a  region  now  as  completely  developed 
as  England,  and  it  goes  back  to  things  as  raw  and  primi 
tive  as  King  Arthur's  time.  I  wonder  if  his  knights 
were  not  in  the  main,  pretty  shabby  rascals,  as  bad  as 
Dick  McGill — or  Cow  Vandemark?  But  Gertrude  has 
not  yet  heard  all  about  that  night's  work.) 


248  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Now,"  said  McGill,  "for  the  others !  Load  up,  and 
come  on.  This  fellow  will  never  look  behind  him !" 

But  he  did ! 

The  next  and  the  last  stop,  was  away  down  on  Sectien 
Thirty- five — two  miles  farther.  I  was  feeling  rather 
warnble-cropped,  because  of  the  memory  of  that  poor 
fellow  with  the  tar  in  his  eyes — but  I  went  all  the  same. 

There  was  a  little  streak  of  light  in  the  east  when  we 
got  to  the  place,  but  we  could  not  at  first  locate  the  claim- 
jumpers.  They  had  gone  down  into  a  hollow,  right  in  the 
very  corner  of  the  section,  as  if  trying  barely  to  trespass 
on  the  land,  so  as  to  be  able  almost  to  deny  that  they  were 
on  it  at  all,  and  were  seemingly  trying  to  hide.  We  could 
scarcely  see  their  outfit  after  we  found  it,  for  they  were 
camped  in  tall  grass,  and  their  little  shanty  was  not  much 
larger  than  a  dry-goods  box.  Their  one  horse  was  staked 
out  a  little  way  off,  their  one-horse  wagon  was  standing 
with  its  cover  on  beside  a  mound  of  earth  which  marked 
where  a  shallow  well  had  been  dug  for  water.  I  heard 
a  rustling  in  the  wagon  as  we  passed  it,  like  that  of  a  bird 
stirring  in  the  branches  of  a  tree. 

McGill  pounded  on  the  door. 

"Come  out,"  he  shouted.    "You've  got  company !" 

There  was  a  scrabbling  and  hustling  around  in  the 
shanty,  and  low  talking,  and  some  one  asked  who  was 
there ;  to  which  McGill  replied  for  them  to  come  out  and 
see.  Pretty  soon,  a  little  doddering  figure  of  a  man  came 
to  the  door,  pulling  on  his  breeches  with  trembling  hands 
as  he  stepped,  barefooted,  on  the  bare  ground  which 
came  right  up  to  the  door-sill. 

"What's  wanted,  gentlemen?"  he  quavered.  "I  cain't 
ask  you  to  come  in — jist  yit.  What's  wanted?" 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  249 

He  had  not  said  two  words  when  I  knew  him  for  Old 
Man  Fewkes,  whom  I  had  last  seen  back  on  the  road  west 
of  Dyersville,  on  his  way  to  "Negosha."  Where  was  Ma 
Fewkes,  and  where  were  Celebrate  Fourth  and  Sura j ah 
Dowlah?  And  where,  most  emphatically,  where  was 
Rowena?  I  stepped  forward  at  McGill's  side.  Surely, 
I  thought,  they  were  not  going  to  tar  and  feather  these 
harmless,  good-for-nothing  waifs  of  the  frontier;  and 
even  as  I  thought  it,  I  saw  the  glimmering  of  the  fire 
they  were  kindling  under  the  tar-kettle. 

"We  want  you,  you  infernal  claim-jumper!"  said 
McGill.  "We'll  show  you  that  you  can't  steal  the  land 
from  us  hard-working  settlers,  you  set  of  sneaks !  Take 
off  your  clothes,  and  we'll  give  you  a  coat  that  will  make 
you  look  more  like  buzzards  than  you  do  now." 

"There's  some  of  'em  runnin'  away!"  yelled  one  of 
the  crowd.  "Catch  'em !" 

There  was  a  flight  through  the  grass  from  the  back 
of  the  shanty,  a  rush  of  pursuit,  some  feeble  yells  jerked 
into  bits  by  rough  handling ;  and  presently.  Celebrate  and 
Sura  j  ah  were  dragged  into  the  circle  of  light,  just  as  poor 
Ma  Fewkes,  with  her  shoulder-blades  drawn  almost 
together  came  forward  and  tried  to  tear  from  her  poor  old 
husband's  arm  the  hand  of  an  old  neighbor  of  mine  whose 
name  I  won't  mention  even  at  this  late  day.  I  will  not 
turn  state's  evidence  notwithstanding  the  Statute  of  Limi 
tations  has  run,  as  N.  V.  Creede  advises  me,  against  any 
one  but  Dick  McGill — and  the  reason  for  my  exposing 
him  is  merely  tit  for  tat.  Ma  Fewkes  could  not  unclasp 
the  hands  ;  but  she  produced  an  effect  just  the  same. 

"Say,"  said  a  man  who  had  all  the  time  sat  in  one  of 


250  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

the  wagons,  holding  the  horses.  "You'd  better  leave  out 
the  stripping,  boys !" 

They  began  dragging  the  boys  and  the  old  man  toward 
the  tar-kettle,  and  McGill,  with  his  hat  drawn  down  over 
his  eyes,  went  to  the  slimy  mass  and  dipped  into  it  a 
wooden  paddle  with  which  they  had  been  stirring  it. 
Taking  as  much  on  it  as  it  would  carry,  he  made  as  if  to 
smear  it  over  the  old  man's  head  and  beard.  I  could  not 
stand  this — the  poor  harmless  old  coot! — and  I  ran  up 
and  struck  McGill's  arm. 

"What  in  hell,"  he  yelled,  for  some  of  the  tar  went 
on  him,  "do  you  mean !" 

"Don't  tar  and  feather  'em,"  I  begged.  "I  know  these 
folks.  They  are  a  poor  wandering  family,  without  money 
enough  to  buy  land  away  from  any  one." 

"We  jist  thought  we'd  kind  o'  settle  down,"  said  Old 
Man  Fewkes  whimperingly;  "and  I've  got  the  money 
promised  me  to  buy  this  land.  So  it's  all  right  and 
straight !" 

The  silly  old  leatherhead  didn't  know  he  was  doing 
anything  against  public  sentiment ;  and  told  the  very  thing 
that  made  a  case  against  him.  I  have  found  out  since 
who  the  man  was  that  promised  him  the  money  and  was 
going  to  take  the  land  ;  but  that  was  just  one  circumstance 
in  the  land  craze,  and  the  man  himself  was  wounded  at 
Fort  Donelson,  and  died  in  hospital — so  I  won't  tell  his 
name.  The  point  is,  that  the  old  man  had  turned  the  jury 
against  me  just  as  I  had  finished  my  plea. 

"You  have  got  the  money  promised  you,  have  you?" 
repeated  McGill.  "Grab  him,  boys !" 

All  this  time  I  was  wondering  where  Rowena  could  be. 
I  recollected  how  she  had  always  seemed  to  be  mortified 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  251 

by  her  slack-twisted  family,  and  I  could  see  her  as  she 
meeched  off  across  the  prairie  back  along  the  Old  Ridge 
Road,  as  if  she  belonged  to  another  outfit;  and  yet,  I 
knew  how  much  of  a  Fewkes  she  was,  as  she  joined  in  the 
conversation  when  they  planned  their  great  estates  in  the 
mythical  state  of  Negosha,  or  in  Texas,  or  even  in  Cali 
fornia.  I  grew  hot  with  anger  as  I  began  to  realize  what 
a  humiliation  this  tarring  and  feathering  would  be  to  her 
— and  I  kept  wondering,  as  I  have  said,  where  she  could 
be,  even  as  I  felt  the  thrill  a  man  experiences  when  he 
sees  that  he  must  fight :  and  just  as  I  felt  this  thrill,  one 
of  our  men  closed  with  the  old  fellow  from  behind,  and 
wrenching  his  bird's-claw  hands  behind  his  back,  thrust 
the  wizened  old  bearded  face  forward  for  its  coat  of  tar. 

I  clinched  with  our  man,  and  getting  a  rolling  hip- 
lock  on  him,  I  whirled  him  over  my  head,  as  I  had  done 
with  so  many  wrestling  opponents,  and  letting  him  go  in 
mid-air,  he  went  head  over  heels,  and  struck  ten  feet 
away  on  the  ground.  Then  I  turned  on  McGill,  and  with 
the  flat  of  my  hand,  I  slapped  him  over  against  the  shanty, 
with  his  ears  ringing.  They  were  coming  at  me  in  an 
undecided  way:  for  my  onset  had  been  both  sudden  and 
unexpected ;  when  I  saw  Rowena  running  from  the  rear 
with  a  shotgun  in  her  hand,  which  she  had  picked  up  as 
it  leaned  against  a  wagon  wheel  where  one  of  our  crowd 
had  left  it. 

"Stand  back!"  she  screamed.  "Stand  back,  or  I'll 
blow  somebody's  head  off!" 

I  heard  a  chuckling  laugh  from  a  man  sitting  in  one 
of  the  wagons,  and  a  word  or  two  from  him  that  sounded 
like,  "Good  girl !"  Our  little  mob  fell  back,  the  man  I  had 
thrown  limping,  and  Dick  McGill  rubbing  the  side  of  his 


252  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

head.  The  dawn  was  now  broadening  in  the  east,  and  It 
was  getting  almost  light  enough  so  that  faces  might  be 
recognized ;  and  one  or  two  of  the  crowd  began  to  retreat 
toward  the  wagons. 

"I'll  see  to  it,"  said  I,  "that  these  people  will  leave 
this  land,  and  give  up  their  settlement  on  it." 

"No  we  won't,"  said  Rowena.  "We'll  stay  here  if 
we're  killed." 

"Now,  Rowena,"  said  her  father,  "don't  be  so  sot. 
We'll  leave  right  off.  Boys,  hitch  up  the  horse.  We'll 
leave,  gentlemen.  I  was  gittin'  tired  of  this  country  any 
way.  It's  so  tarnal  cold  in  the  winter.  The  trees  is  in 
constant  varder  in  Texas,  an'  that's  where  we'll  go." 

By  this  time  the  mob  had  retreated  to  their  wagons, 
their  courage  giving  way  before  the  light  of  day,  rather 
than  our  resistance;  though  I  could  see  that  the  settlers 
had  no  desire  to  get  into  a  row  with  one  of  their  neigh 
bors:  so  shouting  warnings  to  the  Fewkeses  to  get  out 
of  the  country  while  they  could,  they  drove  off,  leaving 
me  with  the  claim-jumpers.  I  turned  and  saw  poor 
Rowena  throw  herself  on  the  ground  and  burst  into  a 
most  frightful  fit  of  hysterical  weeping.  She  would  not 
allow  her  father  or  her  brothers  to  touch  her,  and  when 
her  mother  tried  to  comfort  her,  she  said  "Go  away,  ma. 
Don't  touch  me !"  Finally  I  went  to  her,  and  she  caught 
my  hand  in  hers  and  pressed  it,  and  after  I  had  got  her 
to  her  feet — the  poor  ragged  waif,  as  limpsey  as  a  rag, 
and  wearing  the  patched  remnants  of  the  calico  dress  I 
had  bought  for  her  on  the  way  into  Iowa  the  spring 
before — she  broke  down  and  cried  on  my  shoulder.  She 
sobbed  out  that  I  was  the  only  man  she  had  ever  known. 
She  wished  to  God  she  were  a  man  like  me.  The  only 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  253 

way  I  could  stop  her  was  to  tell  her  that  her  face  ought 
to  be  washed;  when  I  said  that  to  her,  she  stopped  her 
sitheing  and  soon  began  making  herself  pretty:  and 
she  was  quite  gay  _onjhe j;oad  to  my_£la£e*. where  I  took 
them  because  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  else  to  do  with 
them,  though  I  knew  that  the  whole  family,  not  counting 
Rowena,  couldn't  or  wouldn't  do  enough  work  to  pay  the 
board  of  their  horse. 

3 

They  hadn't  more  than  got  there  and  eaten  a  solid 
meal,  than  Sura j  ah  asked  me  for  tools  so  he  could  work 
on  a  patent  mouse-trap  he  was  inventing,  and  when  I 
came  in  from  work  that  evening,  he  was  explaining  it  to 
Magnus  Thorkelson,  who  had  come  over  to  borrow  some 
sugar  from  me.  Magnus  was  pretending  to  listen,  but 
he  was  asking  his  questions  of  Rowena,  who  stood  by 
more  than  half  convinced  that  Surrager  had  finally  hit 
upon  his  great  idea — which  was  a  mouse-trap  that 
would  always  be  baited,  and  with  two  compartments,  one 
to  catch  the  mice,  and  one  to  hold  them  after  they  were 
caught.  When  they  went  into  the  second  compartment, 
they  tripped  a  little  lever  which  opened  the  door  for  a 
new  captive,  and  at  the  same  time  baited  the  trap  again. 

It  seemed  as  if  Magnus  could  not  understand  what 
Surajah  said,  but  that  Rowena's  speech  was  quite  plain 
to  him.  After  that,  he  came  over  every  evening  and 
Rowena  taught  him  to  read  in  McGuffey's  Second 
Reader.  I  knew  that  Magnus  had  read  this  through  time 
and  again ;  but  he  said  he  could  learn  to  speak  the  words 
better  when  Rowena  taught  him.  The  fact  was,  though, 
that  he  was  teaching  her  more  than  she  him;  but  she 
never  had  a  suspicion  of  this.  That  evening1  Magnus 


254  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

came  over  and  brought  his  fiddle.  Pa  Fewkes  was  quite 
disappointed  when  Magnus  said  he  could  not  play  the 
Money  Musk  nor  Turkey  in  the  Straw,  nor  the  Demi's 
Dream,  but  when  he  went  into  one  of  his  musical  trances 
and  played  things  with  no  tune  to  them  but  with  a  great 
deal  of  harmony,  and  some  songs  that  almost  made  you 
cry,  Rowena  sat  looking  so  lost  to  the  world  and  dreamy 
that  Magnus  was  moist  about  the  eyes  himself.  He 
shook  hands  with  all  of  us  when  he  went  away,  so  as  to 
get  the  chance  to  hold  Rowena's  hand  I  guess. 

Every  day  while  they  were  there,  Magnus  came  to 
see  us  ;  but  did  not  act  a  bit  like  a  boy  who  came  sparking. 
He  did  not  ask  Rowena  to  sit  up  with  him,  though  I  think 
she  expected  him  to  do  so ;  but  he  talked  with  her  about 
Norway,  and  his  folks  there,  and  how  lonely  it  was  on  his 
farm,  and  of  his  hopes  that  one  day  he  would  be  a  well- 
to-do  farmer. 

After  one  got  used  to  her  poor  clothes,  and  when  she 
got  tamed  down  a  little  on  acquaintance  and  gave  a  per 
son  a  chance  to  look  at  her,  and  especially  into  her  eyes, 
she  was  a  very  pretty  girl.  She  had  grown  since  I  had 
seen  her  the  summer  before,  and  was  fuller  of  figure. 
Her  hair  was  still  of  that  rich  dark  brown,  just  the  color 
of  her  eyes  and  eyebrows.  She  had  been  a  wild  girl  last 
summer,  but  now  she  was  a  woman,  with  spells  of  dream 
ing  and  times  when  her  feelings  were  easily  hurt.  She 
still  was  ready  to  flare  up  and  fight  at  the  drop  of  the 
hat — because,  I  suppose,  she  felt  that  everybody  looked 
down  on  her  and  her  family ;  but  to  Magnus  and  me  she 
was  always  gentle  and  sometimes  I  thought  she  was  going 
to  talk  confidentially  to  me. 

After  she  had  had  one  of  her  lessons  one  evening  she 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  255 

said  to  me,  "I  wish  I  wa'n't  so  darned  infarnal  ignorant. 
I  wish  I  could  learn  enough  to  teach  school !" 

"We're  all  ignorant  here,"  I  said. 

"Magnus  ain't,"  said  she.  "He  went  to  a  big  school 
in  the  old  country.  He  showed  me  the  picture  of  it,  and 
of  his  father's  house.  It's  got  four  stone  chimneys." 

"I  wonder,"  said  I,  "if  what  they  learn  over  there  is 
real  learning." 

And  that  ended  our  confidential  talk. 

About  the  time  I  began  wondering  how  long  they 
were  to  stay  with  me,  Buck  Gowdy  came  careering  over 
the  prairie,  driving  his  own  horse,  just  as  I  was  taking 
my  nooning  and  was  looking  at  the  gun  which  Rowena 
had  used  to  drive  back  the  Settlers'  Club,  and  which  we 
had  brought  along  with  us.  I  thought  I  remembered 
where  I  had  seen  that  gun,  and  when  Buck  came  up  I 
handed  it  to  him. 

"Here's  your  shotgun,"  I  said.  "It's  the  one  you  shot 
the  geese  with  back  toward  the  Mississippi." 

"Good  goose  gun,"  said  he.  "Thank  you  for  keep 
ing  it  for  me.  I  see  you  have  caught  me  out  getting 
acquainted  with  Iowa  customs.  If  you  had  needed  any 
help  that  night,  you'd  have  got  it." 

"I  came  pretty  near  needing  it,"  I  said;  "and  I  had 
help." 

"I  see  you  brought  your  help  home  with  you,"  he  said. 
"I  think  I  recognize  that  wagon,  don't  I  ?"  I  nodded.  "I 
wonder  if  they  could  come  and  help  me  on  the  farm.  I'd 
like  to  see  them.  I  need  help,  inside  the  house  and  out." 

I  left  him  talking  with  the  whole  Fewkes  family, 
except  Rowena,  who  kept  herself  out  of  sight  somewhere, 
and  went  out  to  the  stable  to  work.  Gowdy  was  talking 


256  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

to  them  in  that  low-voiced,  smiling  way  of  his,  with  the 
little  sympathetic  tremor  in  his  voice  like  that  in  the  tone 
of  an  organ.  He  had  already  told  Surajah  that  his  idea 
for  a  mouse-trap  looked  like  something  the  world  had 
been  waiting  for,  and  that  there  might  be  a  fortune  in  the 
scheme.  Ma  Fewkes  was  looking  up  at  him,  as  if  what 
he  said  must  be  the  law  and  gospel.  He  had  them  all 
hypnotized,  or  as  we  called  it  then,  mesmerized — so  I 
thought  as  I  went  out  of  sight  of  them.  After  a  while, 
Rowena  came  around  the  end  of  a  haystack,  and  spoke 
to  me. 

"Mr.  Gowdy  wants  us  all  to  go  to  work  for  him,"  she 
said.  "He  wants  pa  and  the  boys  to  work  around  the 
place,  and  he  says  he  thinks  some  of  Surrager's  machines 
are  worth  money.  He'll  give  me  work  in  the  house." 

"It  looks  like  a  good  chance,"  said  I. 

"You  know  I  don't  know  much  about  housework," 
said  she;  "poor  as  we've  always  been." 

"You  showed  me  how  to  make  good  bread,"  I  replied. 

"I  could  do  well  for  a  poor  man,"  said  Rowena,  look 
ing  at  me  rather  sadly.  Then  she  waited  quite  a  while 
for  me  to  say  something. 

"Shall  I  go,  Jake?"  she  asked,  looking  up  into  my 
face. 

"It  looks  like  a  good  chance  for  all  of  you," 
I  answered. 

"I  don't  want  to,"  said  she,  "I  couldn't  stay  here, 
could  I? No,  of  course  not!" 

So  away  went  the  Fewkeses  with  Buck  Gowdy.  That 
is,  Rowena  went  away  with  him  in  his  buggy,  and  the 
rest  of  the  family  followed  in  a  day  or  so  with  the  cross 
old  horse — now  refreshed  by  my  hay  and  grain,  and  the 


i  BECOME  A  BANDIT  257 

rest  we  had  given  him, — in  their  rickety  one-horse 
wagon.  I  remember  how  Rowena  looked  back  at  us,  her 
hair  blowing  about  her  face  which  looked,  just  a  thought, 
pale  and  big-eyed,  as  the  Gowdy  buggy  went  off  like  the 
wind,  with  Buck's  arm  behind  the  girl  to  keep  her  from 
bouncing  out. 

This  day's  work  was  not  to  cease  in  its  influence  on 
Iowa  affairs  for  half  a  century,  if  ever.  State  politics, 
the  very  government  of  the  commonwealth,  the  history  of 
Monterey  County  and  of  Vandemark  Township,  were  all 
changed  when  Buck  Gowdy  went  off  over  the  prairie  that 
day,  holding  Rowena  Fewkes  in  the  buggy  seat  with  that 
big  brawny  arm  of  his.  Ma  Fewkes  seemed  delighted  to 
see  Mr.  Gowdy  holding  her  daughter  in  the  buggy. 

"Nobody  can  tell  what  great  things  may  come  of 
this!"  she  cried,  as  they  went  out  of  sight  over  a  knoll. 

She  never  said  a  truer  thing.  To  be  sure,  it  was  only 
the  hiring  by  a  very  rich  man,  as  rich  men  went  in  those 
days,  of  three  worthless  hands  and  a  hired  girl ;  but  it 
tnrgjJTg  qtat^^nfFajrg^m  pieces.  Whenever  I  think  of  it 
I  remember  some  verses  in  the  Fifth  Reader  that  my 
children  used  in  school: 

"Somewhere   yet  that   atom's    force 
Moves  the  light-poised  universe."* 

It  was  a  great  deal  more  important  then,  though,  that 
*m  that  afternoon  I  was  arrested  for  a  great  many  things 
— assault  with  intent  to  commit  great  bodily  injury, 

*See  Gowdy  vs.  Buckner,  et  al,  la.  Rep.  Also  accounts  of 
relations  of  the  so-called  Gowdy  Estate  litigation  to  "The  Inside 
of  Iowa  Politics"  by  the  editor  of  these  MSS.— in  press. — 
G.  v,  d.  M. 


258  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

assault  with  intent  to  kill,  just  simple  assault,  unlawful 
assembly,  rioting,  and  I  don't  know  but  treason.  Dick 
McGill,  I  am  sure  it  was,  told  the  first  claim- jumper  we 
visited  that  I  was  at  the  head  of  the  mob,  and  he  had  me 
arrested.  I  was  taken  to  Monterey  Centre  by  Jim  Boyd, 
the  blacksmith,  who  was  deputy  sheriff;  but  he  did  the 
fair  thing  and  allowed  me  to  get  Magnus  Thorkelson  to 
attend  to  my  stock  while  I  was  gone. 

I  think  that  that  passage  in  the  Scriptures  which  tells 
us  to  visit  those  who  are  in  prison  as  well  as  the  sick,  is  a 
thing  that  shows  the  Bible  to  be  an  inspired  work;  but 
this  belief  has  come  to  me  through  my  remembrance  of 
my  sufferings  when  I  was  arrested.  Not  that  I  went  to 
prison.  In  fact,  I  do  not  believe  there  was  anything  like 
a  jail  nearer  than  Iowa  City  or  Dubuque ;  but  Jim  told  me 
that  he  understood  that  I  was  a  terrible  ruffian  and  would 
have  to  be  looked  after  very  closely.  He  made  me  help 
him  about  the  blacksmith  shop,  and  I  learned  so  much 
about  blacksmithing  that  I  finally  set  up  a  nice  little 
forge  on  the  farm  and  did  a  good  deal  of  my  own  work 
At  last  Jim  said  I  was  stealing  his  trade,  and  when  Vir 
ginia  Royall  came  down  to  the  post-office  the  day  the  mail 
came  in,  which  was  a  Friday  in  those  days,  and  came  to 
the  shop  to  see  me,  he  told  her  what  a  fearful  criminal 
I  was.  She  laughed  and  told  Jim  to  stop  his  fooling,  not 
knowing  what  a  very  serious  thing  it  was  for  me. 

When  she  asked  me  to  come  up  to  see  the  Elder 
and  Grandma  Thorndyke,  and  I  told  her  I  was  a 
prisoner,  Jim  paroled  me  to  her,  and  made  her  give  him 
a  receipt  for  me  which  he  wrote  out  on  the  anvil  on  the 
leaf  of  his  pass-book,  and  had  her  sign  it.  He  said  he  was 
glad  to  get  rid  of  me  for  two  reasons:  one  was  that  I 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  259 

was  stealing  his  trade,  and  the  other  that  I  was  likely  to 
bu'st  forth  at  any  time  and  kill  some  one,  especially  a 
claim-jumper  if  there  were  any  left  in  the  county,  which 
he  doubted. 

So  I  went  with  Virginia  and  spent  the  night  at  the 
elder's.  Grandma  Thorndyke  took  my  part,  though  she 
made  a  great  many  inquiries  about  Rowena  Fewkes ;  but 
the  elder  warned  me  solemnly  against  lawlessness,  though 
when  we  were  alone  together  he  made  me  tell  him  all 
about  the  affair,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  more  violent 
parts  of  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  novel ;  but  when  he  asked 
me  who  were  in  the  "mob"  I  refused  to  tell  him,  and  he 
said  maybe  I  was  right — that  my  honor  might  be  involved. 
Grandma  Thorndyke  seemed  to  have  entirely  got  over  her 
fear  of  having  me  and  Virginia  together,  and  let  us  talk 
alone  as  much  as  we  pleased. 

I  told  them  about  the  quantity  of  wild  strawberries  I 
had  out  in  Vandemark's  Folly,  and  when  Virginia  asked 
the  sheriff  if  the  elder  and  his  wife  and  herself  might  go 
out  there  with  me  for  a  strawberry-and-cream  feast,  he 
said  his  duty  made  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  insist  that 
he  and  his  wife  go  along,  and  that  they  would  furnish 
the  sugar  if  I  would  pony  up  the  cream — of  which  I  had 
a  plenty.  So  we  had  quite  a  banquet  out  on  the  farm. 
Once  in  a  while  I  would  forget  about  the  assaults  and 
the  treason  and  be  quite  jolly — and  then  it  would  all  come 
back  upon  me,  and  I  would  break  out  in  a  cold  sweat. 
Out  of  this  grew  the  first  strawberry  and  cream  festival 
ever  held  in  any  church  in  Monterey  Centre,  the  fruit 
being  furnished,  according  to  the  next  issue  of  the 
Journal  "by  the  malefactors  confined  in  the  county  Bas 
tille" — in  other  words  by  me. 


260  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

4 

Virginia  and  I  gathered  the  berries,  and  she  was  as 
happy  as  she  sould  be,  apparently;  but  once  in  a  while 
she  would  say,  "Poor  Teunis!  Can't  a  Dutchman  see  a 
joke?" 

After  that,  the  elder  and  his  wife  used  to  come 
out  to  see  me,  bringing  Virginia  with  them,  almost  even- 
week,  and  I  prided  myself  greatly  on  my  fried  chicken 
my  nice  salt-rising  bread,  my  garden  vegetables,  my  greets 
corn,  my  butter,  milk  and  cream.  I  had  about  forgotten 
about  being  arrested,  when  the  grand  jury  indicted  me, 
and  Amos  Bemisdarfer  and  Flavins  Bohn  went  bail  for 
me.  When  the  trial  came  on  I  was  fined  twenty  dollars, 
and  before  I  could  produce  the  money,  it  was  paid  by 
William  Trickey,  Ebenezer  Junkins  and  Absalom  Frost, 
who  told  me  that  they  got  me  into  it,  and  it  wasn't  fair 
for  a  boy  to  suffer  through  doing  what  was  necessary 
for  the  protection  of  the  settlers,  and  what  a  lot  of  older 
men  had  egged  him  on  to  do.  So  I  came  out  of  it  all 
straight,  and  was  not  much  the  less  thought  of.  In 
fact,  I  seemed  to  have  ten  friends  after  the  affair  to  one 
before.  But  Dick  McGill,  whose  connection  with  it  I 
have  felt  justified  in  exposing,  still  hounded  me  through 
his  paper.  I  have  before  me  the  copy  of  the  Journal — 
a  little  four-page  sheet  yellowed  with  time,  with  the 
account  of  it  which  follows : 

"A  desperado  named  Vandemark,  well  known  to  the 
annals  of  local  crime  as  'Cow  Vandemark/  was  arrested 
last  Wednesday  for  leading  the  riots  which  have  cleaned 
out  those  industrious  citizens  who  have  been  jumping 
claims  in  this  county.  A  reporter  of  the  Journal,  which 
finds  out  everything  before  it  happens,  attended  th$r 


I  BECOME  A  BANDIT  261 

ceremonies  of  giving  some  of  these  people  a  coat  of  tar 
and  feathers,  and  can  speak  from  personal  observation 
as  to  the  ferocity  of  this  ruffian  Vandemark — also  from 
slight  personal  contact. 

"This  hardened  wretch  is  in  every  feature  a  villain — 
except  that  he  has  a  rosy  complexion,  downy  whiskers, 
and  buttermilk  eyes,  instead  of  the  black  flashing  orbs 
of  fiction.  Sheriff  Boyd  decoyed  him  into  town,  skilfully 
avoiding  an  rousing  of  his  tigerish  disposition,  and  is  now 
making  a  blacksmith  of  him — or  was  until  yesterday, 
when  he  paroled  him  to  Miss  Virginia  Royall,  the  ward 
of  the  Reverend  Thorndyke. 

"This  is  a  very  questionable  policy.  If  followed  up  it 
will  result  in  a  saturnalia  of  crime  in  this  community. 
Already  several  of  our  young  men  are  reading  dime  nov 
els  and  taking  lessons  in  banditry ;  but  the  sheriff  has 
stated  that  this  parole  will  not  be  considered  a  precedent. 
The  affair  has  resulted  in  some  good,  however.  In  addi 
tion  to  placing  the  young  man  under  Christian  influences, 
and  others,  it  has  unearthed  a  patch  of  the  biggest,  best, 
ripest  and  sweetest  wild  strawberries  in  Monterey  County 
on  the  ancestral  estate  of  the  criminal,  known  as  Vande- 
mark's  Folly,  and  by  the  use  of  prison  labor,  and  through 
the  generosity  and  public  spirit  of  our  rising  young  fel 
low-citizen,  Jacob  T.  Vandemark — whom  we  hereby  sa 
lute — we  are  promised  another  strawberry  festival  before 
the  crop  is  gone. 

"In  the  meantime,  it  is  worthy  of  mention  that  the 
industry  of  claim-jumping  has  suffered  a  sudden  slump, 
and  that  the  splendid  pioneers  who  have  opened  up  this 
Garden  of  Eden  \yill  not  be  robbed  of  the  fruits  of  their 
enterprise." 

When  I  came  to  run  for  county  supervisor,  he 
rehashed  the  matter  without  giving  any  hint  that  after 
all  what  I  did  was  approved  of  by  the  people  of  the  county 
in  1856  when  these  things  took  place  or  that  he  himself 
was  in  it  up  to  the  neck !  But  enough  of  that :  the  his- 


262  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

torical  fact  is  that  Settlers'  Clubs  did  work  of  this  sort  all 
over  Iowa  in  those  times,  and  right  or  wrong,  the  pio 
neers  held  to  the  lands  they  took  up  when  the  great  tide 
of  the  Republic  broke  over  the  Mississippi  and  inundated 
Iowa.  The  history  of  Vandemark  Township  was  the 
history  of  the  state. 


CHAPTER  XV 

I   SAVE  A  TREASURE,   AND   START  A  FEUD 

IN  the  month  of  May,  1857,  I  went  to  a  party. 
This  was  a  new  thing  for  me;  for  parties  had  been 
something  of  which  I  had  heard  as  of  many  things  out 
side  of  the  experience  of  a  common  fellow  like  me,  but 
always  had  thought  about  as  a  thing  only  to  be  read  of, 
like  porte  cocheres  and  riding  to  hounds,  and  butlers  and 
books  of  poems.  Stuff  for  story-books,  and  not  for  Van- 
demark  Township ;  though  when  I  saw  the  thing,  it 
was  not  so  very  different  from  the  dances  and  "sings" 
we  used  to  have  on  the  boats  of  the  Grand  Canal,  as  the 
Erie  Ditch  was  then  called  when  you  wanted  to  put  on  a 
little  style. 

The  party  was  at  the  "great  Gothic  house"  of  Gover 
nor  Wade,  just  finished,  over  in  Benton  Township,  The 
Governor  was  not  even  a  citizen  of  Vandemark  Town 
ship,  but  he  had  some  land  in  it.  Buck  Gowdy's  great 
estate  lapped  over  on  one  corner  of  the  township,  Gov 
ernor  Wade's  on  the  other,  and  Hell  Slew,  nicknamed 
Vandemark's  Folly  Marsh  cut  it  through  the  middle,  and 
made  it  hard  for  us  to  get  out  a  full  vote  on  anything 
after  we  got  the  township  organized. 

The  control  shifted  from  the  north  side  of  the  slew  to 
the  south  side  according  to  the  weather ;  for  you  couldn't 

263 


264  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

cross  Vandemark's  Folly  in  wet  weather.  Once  what 
was  called  the  Cow  Vandemark  crowd  got  control 
and  kept  it  for  years  by  calling  the  township  meetings 
always  on  our  own  side  of  the  slew;  and  then  Foster 
Blake  sneaked  in  a  full  attendance  on  us  when  we 
weren't  looking  by  piling  a  couple  of  my  haystacks  in  the 
trail  to  drive  on,  and  it  was  five  years  before  we  got  it 
back.  But  in  the  meantime  we  had  voted  taxes  on  them 
to  build  some  schoolhouses  and  roads.  That  was  local 
politics  in  Iowa  when  Ring  was  a  pup. 

But  Governor  Wade's  party  was  not  local  politics,  or 
so  N.  V.  Creede  tells  me.  He  says  that  this  was  one  of 
the  moves  by  which  the  governor  made  Monterey  County 
Republican.  It  had  always  been  Democratic.  The  gov 
ernor  had  always  been  a  Democrat,  and  had  named  his 
township  after  Thomas  H.  Benton ;  but  now  he  was  the 
big  gun  of  the  new  Republican  Party  in  our  neck  of  the 
woods,  and  he  invited  all  the  people  who  he  thought 
would  be  good  wheel-horses. 

You  will  wonder  how  I  came  to  be  invited.  Well,  it 
was  this  way.  I  called  on  Judge  Stone  at  the  new  court 
house,  the  building  of  which  created  such  a  scandal.  He 
was  county  treasurer.  He  had  been  elected  the  fall  be 
fore.  I  wanted  to  see  him  about  a  cattle  deal.  He  was 
talking  with  Henderson  L.  Burns  when  I  went  in. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  can  go,"  said  he.  "I've  got  te 
watch  the  county's  money.  If  there  was  a  safe  in  this 
county-seat  any  stronger  than  a  cheese  box,  I'd  lock  it 
up  and  go;  but  I  guess  my  bondsmen  are  sitting  up 
nights  worrying  about  their  responsibility  now.  I'll  have 
to  decline,  I  reckon." 

"Oh,   darn  the  money!"   said  Henderson  L.     "You 


I  START  A  FEUD  265 

can't  be  expected  to  set  up  with  it  like  it  had  typhoid 
fever,  can  you?  Take  it  with  you,  and  put  it  in  Wade's 
big  safe." 

"I  might  do  that,"  said  Judge  Stone,  "if  I  had  a 
body-guard." 

"I'd  make  a  good  guard,"  said  Henderson  L.  "Let 
me  take  care  of  it." 

"I'd  have  to  win  it  back  in  a  euchre  game  if  I  ever 
saw  it  again,"  said  the  judge.  "I  hate  to  miss  that  party. 
There'll  be  some  medicine  made  there.  I  might  go  with 
a  body-guard,  eh?" 

"So  if  the  Bunker  gang  gets  after  you,"  suggested  H. 
L.,  "there'd  be  somebody  paid  to  take  the  load  of  buck 
shot.  Well,  here's  Jake.  He's  our  local  desperado. 
Ask  Dick  McGill,  eh,  Jake?  He  dared  the  shotgun  the 
night  they  run  that  claim- jumper  off.  I  know  a  feller 
that  was  there,  and  seen  it — when  he  wa'n't  scared  blind. 
Take  Jake." 

2 

The  Bunker  gang  was  a  group  of  bandits  that  had 
their  headquarters  in  the  timber  along  the  Iowa  River 
near  Eldora.  They  were  afterward  caught — some  of 
them — and  treated  very  badly  by  the  officers  who  started 
to  Iowa  City  with  them.  The  officers,  making  quite  a 
little  posse,  stopped  at  a  tavern  down  in  Tama  County, 
I  think  it  was  at  Fifteen  Mile  Grove,  and  took  a  drink  or 
two  too  much.  They  had  Old  Man  Bunker  and  one  of 
the  boys  in  the  wagon  tied  or  handcuffed,  I  never  knew 
which ;  and  while  the  posse  was  in  the  tavern  getting 
their  drinks  the  boy  worked  himself  loose,  and  lay  there 


266  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

under  the  buffalo  robe  when  the  men  came  back  to  take 
them  on  their  journey  to  jail. 

When  they  had  got  well  started  again,  it  was  de 
cided  by  the  sheriff  or  deputy  in  charge  that  they  would 
make  Old  Man  Bunker  tell  who  the  other  members  were 
of  their  gang.  So  they  took  him  out  of  the  wagon  and 
hung  him  to  a  tree  to  make  him  confess.  When  they  let 
him  down  he  stuck  it  out  and  refused.  They  strung  him 
up  again,  and  just  as  they  got  him  hauled  up  they  noticed 
that  the  boy — he  wasn't  over  my  age — was  running 
away.  They  ran  after  the  boy  and,  numbed  as  he  was 
lying  in  the  wagon  in  the  winter's  cold,  he  could  not  run 
fast,  and  they  caught  him.  Then  they  remembered  that 
they  had  left  Old  Man  Bunker  hanging  when  they  chased 
off  after  the  boy ;  and  when  they  cut  him  down  he  was 
dead. 

They  were  scared,  drunk  as  they  were,  and  after  hold 
ing  a  council  of  war,  they  decided  that  they  would  make 
a  clean  sweep  and  hang  the  boy  too — I  forgot  this  boy's 
name.  This  they  did,  and  came  back  telling  the  story 
that  the  prisoners  had  escaped,  or  been  shot  while  es 
caping.  I  do  not  recall  which.  It  was  kind  of  pitiful; 
but  nothing  was  ever  done  about  it,  though  the  story 
leaked  out — being  too  horrible  to  stay  a  secret. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  sympathy  with  the  Bunkers 
all  over  the  country.  I  know  where  one  of  the  men  who 
did  the  deed  lives  now,  out  in  Western  Iowa,  near 
Cherokee.  He  was  always  looked  upon  as  a  murderer 
here — and  so,  of  course,  he  was,  if  he  consented. 

At  the  time  when  this  conversation  took  place  in 
Judge  Stone's  office,  the  Bunkers  were  in  the  hey-day  of 
their  bad  eminence,  and  while  they  were  operating  a  good 


I  START  A  FEUD  267 

way  off,  there  was  some  terror  at  the  mention  of  their 
name.  The  judge  looked  me  over  for  a  minute  when 
Henderson  L.  suggested  me  for  the  second  time  as  a 
good  man  for  his  body-guard. 

"Will  you  go,  Jake?"  he  asked.  "Or  are  you  scared 
of  the  Bunkers?" 

Now,  as  a  general  rule,  I  should  have  had  to  take 
half  an  hour  or  so  to  decide  a  thing  like  that ;  but  when 
he  asked  me  if  I  was  scared  of  the  Bunkers,  it  nettled  me ; 
and  after  looking  from  him  to  Henderson  L.  for  about 
five  minutes,  I  said  I'd  go.  I  was  not  invited  to  the 
party,  of  course ;  for  it  was  an  affair  of  the  big  bugs ; 
but  I  never  thought  that  an  invitation  was  called  for.  I 
felt  just  as  good  as  any  one,  but  I  was  a  little  wamble- 
cropped  when  I  thought  that  I  shouldn't  know  how  to 
behave. 

"How  you  going,  Judge?"  asked  Henderson  L. 

"In  my  family  carriage,"  said  the  judge. 

"The  only  family  carriage  I  ever  saw  you  have," 
said  Henderson  L.,  "is  that  old  buckboard." 

"I  traded  that  off,"  answered  the  judge,  "to  a  fellow 
driving  through  to  the  Fort  Dodge  country.  I  got  a 
two-seated  covered  carriage.  When  it  was  new  it  was 
about  such  a  rig  as  Buck  Gowdy's." 

"That's  style,"  said  Burns.  "Who's  going  with  you 
- — of  course  there's  you  and  your  wife  and  now  you  have 
Jake ;  but  you've  got  room  for  one  more." 

"My  wife,"  said  the  judge,  "is  going  to  take  the 
preacher's  adopted  daughter.  The  preacher's  wife 
thought  there  might  be  worldly  doings  that  it  might  be 
better  for  her  and  the  elder  to  steer  clear  of,  but  the  girl 
is  going  with  us." 


268  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Well,  Jake,"  said  Henderson  L.,  "you're  in  luck. 
You'll  ride  to  the  party  with  your  old  flame,  in  a  car 
riage.  My  wife  and  I  are  going  on  a  load  of  hay.  Jim 
Boyd  is  the  only  other  man  here  that's  got  a  rig  with 
springs  under  it.  The  aristocracy  of  Monterey  County, 
a  lot  of  it,  will  ride  plugs  or  shank's  mares.  You're  get 
ting  up  among  "em,  Jakey,  my  boy.  Never  thought  of 
this  when  you  were  in  jail,  did  you?" 

Nobody  can  realize  how  this  talk  made  me  suffer; 
and  yet  I  kind  of  liked  it.  I  suffered  more  than  ever, 
because  I  had  not  seen  Virginia  for  a  long  time  for  sev 
eral  reasons.  I  quit  singing  in  the  choir  in  the  fall,  when 
it  was  hard  getting  back  and  forth  with  no  horses,  and 
the  heavy  snow  of  the  winter  of  1855-6  began  coming 
down. 

It  was  a  terrible  winter.  The  deer  were  all  killed  in 
their  stamping  grounds  in  the  timber,  where  they  trod 
down  the  snow  and  struggled  to  get  at  the  brush  and 
twigs  for  forage.  The  settlers  went  in  on  snowshoes  and 
killed  them  with  clubs  and  axes.  We  never  could  have 
preserved  the  deer  in  a  country  like  this,  where  almost 
every  acre  was  destined  to  go  under  plow — but  they 
ought  to  have  been  given  a  chance  for  their  lives.  I  re 
member  once  when  I  was  cussing*  the  men  who  butch 
ered  the  pretty  little  things  while  Magnus  Thorkelson 
was  staying  all  night  with  me  to  help  me  get  my  stock 
through  a  bad  storm — it  was  a  blizzard,  but  we  had 
never  heard  the  word  then — and  as  I  got  hot  in  my  blast- 


*"Cussing"  and  "cursing"  are  quite  different  things,  insists 
the  author.  He  would  never  have  cursed  any  one,  he  protests; 
feut  a  man  is  always  justified  in  cussing  when  a  proper  case  for 
it  is  presented. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


I  START  A  FEUD  269 

ing  and  bedarning  of  them  (though  they  needed  the  ven 
ison)  he  got  up  and  grasped  my  hand,  and  made  as  if  to 
kiss  me. 

"It  is  murder,"  said  he,  and  backed  off. 

I  felt  warmed  toward  him  for  wanting  to  kiss  me, 
though  I  should  have  knocked  him  down  if  he  had.  He 
told  me  it  was  customary  for  men  to  kiss  each  other 
sometimes,  in  Norway.  The  Dunkards — like  the  Bohns 
and  Bemisdarfers — were  the  only  Americans  I  ever 
knew  anything  about  (if  they  really  were  Americans, 
talking  Pennsylvania  Dutch  as  they  did)  who  ever  prac 
tised  it.  They  greeted  each  other  with  a  "holy  kiss"  and 
washed  each  other's  feet  at  their  great  communion  meet 
ing  every  year.  I  never  went  but  once.  The  men  kissed 
the  men  and  the  women  the  women.  So  I  never  went 
but  once ;  though  they  "fed  the  multitude"  as  a  religious 
function — and  if  there  are  any  women  who  can  cook 
bread  and  meat  so  it  will  melt  in  your  mouth,  it  is  the 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  women.  And  the  Bohn  and  Bemis- 
darfer  women  seem  to  me  the  best  cooks  among  them, 
they  and  the  Stricklers.  They  taught  most  of  our  wives 
the  best  cookery  they  know. 

I  was  disappointed  when  we  started  from  Monterey 
Centre,  with  Judge  Horace  Stone  and  me  in  the  front 
seat,  and  Virginia  in  the  back.  As  I  started  to  say  a 
while  back,  I  had  not  been  singing  in  the  choir  during 
the  winter.  The  storms  kept  me  looking  out  for  my 
stock  until  the  snow  went  off  in  the  February  thaw  that 
covered  Vandemark's  Folly  with  water  from  bluff  to 
bluff ;  and  by  that  time  I  had  stayed  out  so  long  that  I 
thought  I  ought  to  be  coaxed  back  into  the  choir  by 
Virginia  or  Grandma  Thorndyke  in  order  to  preserve  my 


270  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

self-respect.  But  neither  of  them  said  anything  about 
it.  In  fact,  I  thought  that  Grandma  Thorndyke  was  not 
so  friendly  in  the  spring  as  she  had  been  in  the  fall — and, 
of  course,  I  could  not  put  myself  forward.  I  had  the 
pure  lunkhead  pride. 

So  I  had  not  seen  Virginia  for  months.  We  early 
Iowa  settlers,  the  men  and  women  who  opened  up  the 
country  to  its  great  career  of  development,  shivered 
through  that  winter  and  many  like  it,  in  hovels  that  only 
broke  the  force  of  the  tempest  but  could  not  keep  it  back. 
The  storms  swept  across  without  a  break  in  their  fury  as 
we  cowered  there,  with  no  such  shelters  as  now  make  our 
winters  seemingly  so  much  milder.  Now  it  is  hard  to 
convince  a  man  from  the  East  that  our  state  was  once 
bare  prairie. 

"It's  funny,"  said  the  young  doctor  that  married  a 
granddaughter  of  mine  last  summer,  "that  all  your  groves 
of  trees  seem  to  be  in  rows.  Left  them  that  way,  I  sup 
pose,  when  you  cut  down  the  forest." 

The  country  looks  as  well  wooded  as  the  farming 
regions  of  Ohio  or  Indiana.  Trees  grew  like  weeds 
when  we  set  them  out ;  and  we  set  them  out  as  the  years 
passed,  by  the  million.  I  never  went  to  the  timber  when 
the  sap  was  down,  without  bringing  home  one  or  more 
elms,  lindens,  maples,  hickories  or  even  oaks — though 
the  latter  usually  died.  Most  of  the  lofty  trees  we  see 
in  every  direction  now,  however,  are  cottonwoods,  wil 
lows  and  Lombardy  poplars  that  were  planted  by  the 
mere  sticking  in  the  ground  of  a  wand  of  the  green  tree. 
They  hauled  these  "slips"  into  Monterey  County  by  the 
wagon-load  after  the  settlers  began  their  great  rush  for 


I  START  A  FEUD  271 

the  prairies ;  and  how  they  grew !  It  was  no  bad  symbol 
of  the  state  itself — a  forest  on  four  wheels. 

What  I  began  to  write  a  few  moments  ago,  though 
concerned  the  difference  between  our  winter  climate  then 
and  now.  Then  the  snow  drifted  before  our  northwest 
winds  in  a  moving  ocean  unbroken  by  corn-field,  grove, 
or  farmstead.  It  smothered  and  overwhelmed  you  when 
caught  out  in  it;  and  after  -a  drifting  storm,  the  first 
groves  we  could  see  cast  a  shadow  in  the  blizzard ;  and 
there  lay  to  the  southeast  of  every  block  of  trees  a  long, 
pointed  drift,  diminishing  to  nothing  at  the  point  where 
ended  the  influence  of  the  grove — this  new  foe  to  the 
tempest  which  civilization  was  planting.  Our  groves 
were  yet  too  small  of  course  to  show  themselves  in  this 
fight  against  the  elements  that  first  winter,  and  there  I 
had  hung  like  a  leaf  caught  on  a  root  in  a  freshet,  an 
eighteen-year-old  boy,  lonely,  without  older  people  to 
whom  I  could  go  for  advice  or  comfort,  and  filled  with 
dreams,  visions  and  doubts,  and  with  no  bright  spot  in 
my  frosty  days  and  frostier  nights  but  my  visions  and 
dreams. 

And  I  suppose  my  loneliness,  my  hardships,  my  lack 
of  the  fireplaces  of  York  State  and  the  warm  rooms  that 
we  were  used  to  in  a  country  where  fuel  was  plentiful, 
made  my  visions  and  dreams  more  to  me  than  they  other 
wise  would  have  been.  It  is  the  hermit  who  loses  the 
world  in  his  thoughts.  And  I  dreamed  of  two  things — 
my  mother,  and  Virginia.  Of  my  mother  I  found  my 
self  thinking  with  less  and  less  of  that  keenness  of  grief 
which  I  had  felt  at  Madison  the  winter  before,  and  on 
my  road  west ;  so  I  used  to  get  out  the  old  worn  shoe 
and  the  rain-stained  letter  she  had  left  for  me  in  the  old 


272  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

apple-tree  and  try  to  renew  my  grief  so  as  to  lose  the 
guilty  feeling  of  which  I  was  conscious  at  the  waning 
sense  of  my  loss  of  her.  This  was  a  strife  against  the 
inevitable;  at  eighteen — or  at  almost  any  other  age,  to 
the  healthy  mind — it  is  the  living  which  calls,  not  the 
^dead. 

In  spite  of  myself,  it  was  Virginia  Royall  to  whom 
my  dreams  turned  all  the  time.  Whether  in  the  keen 
cold  of  the  still  nights  when  the  howl  of  the  wolves 
came  to  me  like  the  cries  of  torment,  or  in  the  howling 
tempests  which  roared  across  my  puny  hovel  like 
trampling  hosts  of  wild  things,  sifting  the  snow  in 
at  my  window,  powdering  the  floor,  and  making  my 
cattle  in  their  sheds  as  white  as  sheep,  I  went  to  sleep  ev 
ery  night  thinking  of  her,  and  thinking  I  should  dream  of 
her — but  never  doing  so ;  for  I  slept  like  the  dead.  I  held 
her  in  my  arms  again  as  I  had  done  the  night  Ann  Gowdy 
had  died  back  there  near  Dubuque,  all  senseless  in  her 
faint;  or  as  I  had  when  I  scared  the  wolves  away  from 
her  back  along  the  Old  Ridge  Road;  or  as  when  I  had 
carried  her  across  the  creek  back  in  our  Grove  of  Des 
tiny — and  she  always,  in  my  dreams,  was  willing,  and 
conscious  that  I  held  her  so  tight  because  I  loved  her. 

I  saw  her  again  as  she  played  with  her  doll  under  the 
trees.  Again  I  rode  by  her  side  into  Waterloo;  and 
again  she  ran  back  to  me  to  bid  me  her  sweet  good-by 
after  I  had  given  her  up.  Often  I  did  not  give  her  up, 
but  brought  her  to  my  new  home,  built  my  house  with 
her  to  cheer  me;  and  often  I  imagined  that  she  was  be 
side  me,  sheltered  from  the  storm  and  happy  while  she 
could  be  by  my  side  and  in  my  arms.  Oh,  I  lived  whole 
lives  over  and  over  again  with  Virginia  that  lonely  win- 


I  START  A  FEUD  273 

ter.  She  had  been  such  a  dear  little  creature.  I  had 
been  able  to  do  so  much  for  her  in  getting  her  away 
from  what  she  thought  a  great  danger.  She  had  done 
so  much  for  me,  too.  Had  not  she  and  I  cried  together 
over  the  memory  of  my  mother?  Had  she  not  been  my 
intimate  companion  for  weeks,  cooked  for  me,  planned  for 
me,  advised  me,  dreamed  with  me?  It  was  not  nearly  so 
lonely  as  you  might  think,  in  one  sense  of  the  word. 

And  now  I  had  not  seen  her  for  such  a  long  time  that 
I  wondered  if  she  were  not  forgetting  me.  No  wonder 
that  I  was  a  little  flighty,  as  I  crowded  myself  into  my 
poor  best  suit  which  I  was  so  rapidly  outgrowing,  and 
walked  into  Monterey  Centre  in  time  to  be  Judge  Horace 
Stone's  body-guard  the  night  of  the  party — I  heard  it 
called  a  reception — at  Governor  DeWitt  Clinton  Wade's 
new  Gothic  house,  over  in  Benton  Township  that  was  to 
be. 

I  was  proportionately  miserable  when  I  called  at  El 
der  Thorndyke's,  to  find  that  Virginia  was  not  ready  to 
see  me,  and  that  Grandma  Thorndyke  seemed  cool  and 
somehow  different  toward  me.  When  she  left  me,  I 
slipped  out  and  went  to  Stone's. 

"Thought  you  wasn't  coming,  Jake,"  said  he.  "Al 
most  give  you  up.  Just  time  for  you  to  get  a  bite  to  eat 
before  we  start." 

3 

When  we  did  start,  his  wife  came  out  in  a  new  black 
silk  dress — for  the  Stones  were  quality — and  was  helped 
into  the  back  seat,  and  the  judge  came  out  of  the  house 
carrying  a  satchel  which  when  he  handed  it  to  me  I  found 
to  be  very  heavy.  I  should  say,  as  I  have  often  stated, 
that  it  weighed  about  fifty  to  sixty  pounds,  and  when  he 


274  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

shoved  it  back  under  the  seat  before  sitting  down,  it  gave 
as  I  seemed  to  remember  afterward  a  sort  of  muffled 
jingle. 

"The  treasures  of  Golconda,  or  Goldarnit,"  said  -he, 
"or  some  of  those  foreign  places.  Hear  'em  jingle? 
Protect  them  with  your  life,  Jake/' 

"All  right,"  I  said,  as  glum  as  you  please ;  for  he  had 
left  the  only  vacant  place  in  the  carriage  back  with  Mrs. 
Stone.  This  was  no  way  to  treat  me !  But  I  was  almost 
glad  when  Virginia  came  out  to  the  carriage  wearing  a 
pink  silk  dress,  and  looking  so  fearful  to  the  eyes  of  her 
obscure  adorer  that  he  could  scarcely  speak  to  her — she 
was  so  unutterably  lovely  and  angelic-looking. 

"How  do  you  do,  Teunis!"  said  she,  and  paused  for 
some  one  to  help  her  in.  Judge  Stone  waited  a  moment, 
and  gave  her  a  boost  at  the  elbow  as  she  skipped  up  the 
step.  I  could  have  bitten  myself.  I  was  the  person  who 
should  have  helped  her  in.  I  was  a  lummox,  a  lunkhead, 
a  lubber,  a  fool,  a  saphead — I  was  everything  that  was 
awkward  and  clumsy  and  thumb-hand-sided!  To  let  an 
old  married  man  get  ahead  of  me  in  that  way  was  a 
crime.  I  slouched  down  into  the  seat,  and  the  judge 
drove  off,  after  handing  me  a  revolver.  I  slipped  it  into 
my  pocket. 

"Jake's  my  body-guard  to-night,  Miss  Royall,"  said 
the  judge.  "We've  got  the  county's  money  here.  Did 
you  hear  it  jingle?" 

"No,  Judge,  I  didn't,"  said  she,  and  she  never  could 
remember  any  jingle  afterward. 

"Aren't  you  afraid,  Teunis?" 

"What  of?"  I  inquired,  looking  around  at  her,  just 
as  she  was  spreading  a  beautiful  Paisley  shawl  about  her 


I  START  A  FEUD  275 

shoulders.  I  dared  now  take  a  long  look  at  her.  A  silk 
dress  and  a  Paisley  shawl,  even  to  my  eyes,  and  I  knew 
nothing  about  their  value  or  rarity  at  that  time  and  place, 
struck  me  all  of  a  heap  with  their  gorgeousness.  They 
reminded  me  of  the  fine  ladies  I  had  seen  in  Albany  and 
Buffalo. 

"Of  the  Bunker  boys,"  said  she.  "If  they  knew  that 
we  were  out  with  all  this  money,  don't  you  suppose  they 
would  be  after  it?  And  what  could  you  and  Mr.  Stone 
do  against  such  robbers?" 

"I've  seen  rougher  customers  than  they  are,"  said  I; 
and  then  I  wondered  if  the  man  I  had  seen  with  the 
Bushyagers  back  in  our  Grove  of  Destiny  had  not  been 
one  of  the  Bunker  boys.  They  certainly  had  had  a  bunch 
of  stolen  horses.  If  he  was  a  member  of  the  Bunker 
gang,  weren't  the  Bushyagers  members  of  it  also?  And 
was  it  not  likely  that  they,  being  neighbors  of  ours,  and 
acquainted  with  everything  that  went  on  in  Monterey 
Centre,  would  know  that  we  were  out  with  the  money, 
and  be  ready  to  pounce  upon  us?  I  secretly  drew  my 
Colt  from  my  pocket  and  looked  to  see  that  each  of  the 
five  chambers  was  loaded,  and  that  each  tube  had  its  per 
cussion  cap.  I  wished,  too,  that  I  had  had  a  little  more 
practise  in  pistol  shooting. 

"What  do  you  think  of  Virginia's  dress  and  shawl?" 
asked  Mrs.  Stone,  as  we  drove  along  the  trail  which 
wound  over  the  prairie,  in  disregard  of  section  lines,  as 
all  roads  did  then.  The  judge  and  I  both  looked  at  Vir 
ginia  again. 

"They're  old  persimmons,"  commented  the  judge. 
"You'll  be  the  belle  of  the  ball,  Virginia." 


276  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"They're  awful  purty,"  said  I,  "especially  the  dress. 
Where  did  you  get  'em,  Virginia?" 

"They  were  found  in  Miss  Royall's  bedroom,"  said 
Mrs.  Stone  emphasizing  the  "Miss" — for  my  benefit,  I 
suppose;  but  it  never  touched  me.  "But  I  guess  she 
knows  where  they  come  from." 

"They  were  Ann's,"  said  Virginia,  a  little  sadly,  and 
yet  blushing  and  smiling  a  little  at  our  open  admiration, 
"my  sister's,  you  know." 

I  scarcely  said  another  word  during  all  that  trip.  I 
was  furious  at  the  thought  of  Buck  Gowdy's  smuggling 
those  clothes  into  Virginia's  room,  so  she  could  have  a 
good  costume  for  the  party.  How  did  he  know  she  was 
invited,  or  going?  To  be  sure,  her  sister  Ann's  things 
ought  to  have  been  given  to  the  poor  orphan  girl — that 
was  all  right;  but  back  there  along  the  road  she  would 
never  speak  his  name.  Had  it  come  to  pass  in  all  these 
weeks  and  months  in  which  I  had  not  seen  her  that  they 
had  come  to  be  on  speaking  terms  again  ?  Had  that 
scoundrel  who  had  killed  her  sister,  after  a  way  of  speak 
ing,  and  driven  Virginia  herself  to  run  away  from  him, 
and  come  to  me,  got  back  into  her  good  graces  so  that 
she  was  allowing  him  to  draw  his  wing  around  her 
again?  It  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  think  of  it.  But 
why  were  the  dress  and  shawl  smuggled  into  her  room, 
instead  of  being  brought  openly?  Maybe  they  were  not 
really  on  terms  of  association  after  all.  I  wished  I  knew, 
or  that  I  had  the  right  to  ask.  I  forgot  all  about  the 
Bunkers,  until  the  judge  whipped  up  the  horses  as  we 
turned  into  the  Wade  place,  and  brought  us  up  standing 
at  the  door. 

"Well,"  said  he,  with  a  kind  of  nervous  laugh,  "the 
Bunkers  didn't  get  us  after  all !" 


I  START  A  FEUD  277 

I  was  out  before  him  this  time,  and  helped  Virginia 
and  Mrs.  Stone  to  get  down.  The  judge  was  wrestling 
with  the  heavy  bag.  The  governor  came  out  to  welcome 
us,  and  he  and  Judge  Stone  carried  it  in.  Mrs.  Wade, 
a  scared-looking  little  woman,  stood  in  the  hall  and  gave 
me  her  hand  as  I  went  in. 

"Good  evening,  Mr. ,"  said  she. 

"Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  the  judge.  "My  body-guard, 
Mrs.  Wade." 

The  good  lady  looked  at  my  worn,  tight-fitting  cordu 
roys,  at  my  clean  boiled  shirt  which  I  had  done  up  my 
self,  at  my  heavy  boots,  newly  greased  for  the  occasion, 
and  at  my  bright  blue  and  red  silk  neckerchief,  and 
turned  to  other  guests.  After  all  I  was  dressed  as  well 
as  some  of  the  rest  of  them.  There  are  many  who  may 
read  this  account  of  the  way  the  Boyds,  the  Burnses,  the 
Flemings,  the  Creedes,  the  Stones  and  others  of  our 
county  aristocracy,  came  to  this  party  in  alpacas,  de 
laines,  figured  lawns,  and  even  calicoes,  riding  on  loads 
of  hay  and  in  lumber  wagons  with  spring  seats,  who  may 
be  a  little  nettled  when  a  plain  old  farmer  tells  it;  but 
they  should  never  mind  this:  the  time  will  come  when 
their  descendants  will  be  proud  of  it.  For  they  were  the 
John  Aldens,  the  Priscillas,  the  Miles  Standishes  and 
the  Dorothy  Q's  of  as  great  a  society  as  the  Pilgrim  Fa 
thers  and  Pilgrim  Mothers  set  a-going:  the  society  of 
the  great  commonwealth  of  Iowa. 

The  big  supper — I  guess  they  would  call  it  a  dinner 
now — served  in  the  large  room  on  a  long  table  and  some 
smaller  ones,  was  the  great  event  of  the  party.  The 
Wades  were  very  strict  church-members.  Such  a  thing 
as  card  playing  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  and  dancing 


278  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

was  just  as  bad.  Both  were  worldly  amusements  whose 
feet  took  hold  on  hell.  We  have  lost  this  strictness  now, 
and  sometimes  I  wonder  if  we  have  not  lost  our  religion 
too. 

The  Wades  were  certainly  religious — that  is  the 
Governor  and  Mrs.  Wade.  Jack  Wade,  the  John  P.  Wade 
who  was  afterward  one  of  the  national  bosses  of  the 
Republican  party,  and  Bob,  the  Robert  S.  Wade  who 
became  so  prominent  in  the  financial  circles  of  the  state, 
were  a  little  worldly.  A  hired  hand  I  once  had  was  with 
the  Wades  for  a  while,  and  said  that  when  he  and  the 
Wade  boys  were  out  in  the  field  at  work  (for  they 
worked  as  hard  as  any  of  the  hands,  and  Bob  was  the 
first  man  in  our  part  of  the  country  who  ever  husked  a 
hundred  bushels  of  corn  in  a  day)  the  Wade  boys  and 
the  hired  men  cussed  and  swore  habitually.  But  this 
scamp,  when  they  were  having  family  worship,  used  to 
fill  in  with  "Amen !"  and  "God  grant  it !"  and  the  like 
pious  exclamations  when  the  governor  was  offering  up 
his  morning  prayer.  But  one  morning  Bob  Wade 
brought  a  breast-strap  from  off  the  harness,  and  took 
care  to  kneel  within  easy  reach  of  the  kneeling  hired 
man's  pants.  When  he  began  with  his  responses  that 
morning,  a  loud  slap,  and  a  smothered  yell  disturbed  the 
governor — but  he  only  paused,  and  went  on. 

"What  in  hell,"  asked  the  hired  man  when  they  got 
outside,  "did  you  hit  me  for  with  that  blasted  strap?" 

"To  show  you  how  to  behave,"  said  Bob.  "When 
the  governor  is  talking  to  the  Lord,  you  keep  your  mouth 
shut." 

I  tell  this,  because  it  shows  how  even  our  richest  and 
most  aristocratic  family  lived,  and  how  we  we.re  sup- 


I  START  A  FEUD  279 

posed  to  defend  religion  against  trespass.  I  am  told 
that  in  some  countries  the  wickedest  person  is  likely  to 
be  a  praying  one.  It  beems,  however,  that  in  this  coun 
try  the  church-members  are  expected  to  protect  their 
monopoly  of  the  ear  of  God.  Anyhow,  Bob  Wade  felt 
that  he  was  doing  a  fitting  if  not  a  very  seemly  thing  in 
giving  this  physical  rebuke  to  a  man  who  was  pretending 
to  be  more  religious  than  he  was.  The  question  is  a  lit 
tle  complex ;  but  the  circumstance  shows  that  there  could 
be  no  cards  or  dancing  at  the  Wade's  party. 

Neither  could  there  be  any  drinking.  The  Wades 
had  a  vineyard  and  made  wine.  The  Flemings  lived  in 
the  next  farm-house  down  the  road,  and  when  our  party 
took  place,  the  families  were  on  fairly  good  terms ;  though 
the  governor  and  his  wife  regarded  the  Flemings  as  be 
neath  them,  and  this  idea  influenced  the  situation 
between  the  families  when  Bob  Wade  began  showing  at 
tentions  to  Kittie  Fleming,  a  nice  girl  a  year  or  so  older 
than  I.  Charlie  Fleming,  the  oldest  of  the  boys,  was  very 
sick  one  fall,  and  they  thought  he  was  going  to  die. 
Doctor  Bliven  prescribed  wine,  and  the  only  wine  in  the 
neighborhood  was  in  the  cellar  of  Governor  Wade ;  so, 
even  though  the  families  were  very  much  at  the  outs,  ow 
ing  to  the  fuss  about  Bob  and  Kittie  going  together,  Mrs. 
Fleming  went  over  to  the  Wades'  to  get  some  wine  for 
her  sick  boy. 

"We  can't  allow  you  to  have  it,"  said  the  governor, 
with  his  jaws  set  a  little  closer  than  usual.  "We  keep 
wine  for  sacramental  purposes  only." 

This  proves  how  straight  they  were  about  violating 
their  temperance  vows,  and  how  pious.  Though  there 
are  some  lines  of  poetry  in  the  Fifth  Reader  which  seem 


280  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

to  show  that  the  governor  missed  a  real  sacrament.  They 
read: 

"Who  gives  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  thee — 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  Me;" 

but  Governor  Wade  was  a  practical  man  who  made  his 
religion  fit  what  he  wanted  to  do,  and  what  he  felt  was 
the  proper  thing.  Bob  and  Jack  were  worldly,  like  the. 
rest  of  us.  The  governor  got  the  reputation  of  being  a 
hard  man,  and  the  wine  incident  did  a  good  deal  to  add 
to  it.  The  point  is  that  there  had  to  be  some  other  way  of 
entertaining  the  company  at  the  party,  besides  drinking, 
card-playing,  or  dancing.  Of  course  the  older  people 
could  discuss  the  price  of  land,  the  county  organization 
and  the  like ;  but  even  the  important  things  of  the  coun 
try  were  mostly  in  the  hands  of  young  people — and 
young  folks  will  be  young  folks. 


Kittie  Fleming  was  a  pretty  black-eyed  girl,  who  af 
terward  made  the  trouble  between  Bob  Wade  and  his 
father.  At  this  party  the  thing  which  made  it  a  sad 
affair  to  me  was  the  attentions  paid  to  Virginia  by 
Bob.  I  might  have  been  comforted  by  the  nice  way 
Kittie  Fleming  treated  me,  if  I  had  had  eyes  for  any  one 
but  Virginia;  but  when  Kittie  smiled  on  me,  I  always 
thought  how  much  sweeter  was  Virginia's  smile. 
But  her  smiles  that  evening  were  all  for  Bob  Wade.  In 
fact,  he  gave  nobody  else  a  chance.  It  really  seemed  as 
if  the  governor  and  his  wife  were  pleased  to  see  him 
deserting  Kittie  Fleming,  but  whether  or  not  this  was  be 
cause  they  thought  the  poor  orphan  Virginia  a  better 


I  START  A  FEUD  281 

match,  or  for  the  reason  that  any  new  flame  would  wean 
him  from  Kittie  I  could  not  say.  And  I  suppose  they 
thought  Kittie's  encouraging  behavior  to  me  was  not 
only  a  proof  of  her  low  tastes,  or  rather  her  lack  of 
ambition,  but  a  sure  sign  to  Bob  that  she  was  not  in  his 
class.  So  far  as  I  was  concerned  I  was  wretched,  es 
pecially  when  the  younger  people  began  turning  the 
gathering  into  a  "play  party." 

Now  there  was  a  difference  between  a  play  party  and 
a  kissing  party  or  kissing  bee,  as  we  used  to  call  it.  The 
play  party  was  quite  respectable,  and  could  be  indulged 
in  by  church-members.  In  it  the  people  taking  part  sang 
airs  each  with  its  own  words,  and  moved  about  in  step  to 
the  music.  The  absence  of  the  fiddle  and  the  "calling 
off"  and  the  name  of  dancing  took  the  curse  off.  They 
went  through  figures  a  lot  like  dances ;  swung  partners 
by  one  hand  or  both ;  advanced  and  retreated,  "balanced 
to  partners"  bowing  and  saluting;  clasping  hands,  right 
and  left  alternately  with  those  they  met ;  and  balanced  to 
places,  and  the  like.  Sometimes  they  had  a  couple  to 
lead  them,  as  in  the  dance  called  the  German,  of  which 
my  granddaughter  tells  me ;  but  usually  they  were  all  sup 
posed  to  know  the  way  the  play  went,  and  the  words 
were  always  such  as  to  help.  Here  is  the  one  they  started 
off  with  that  night: 

"We  come  here  to  bounce  around, 
We  come  here  to  bounce  around, 
We  come  here  to  bounce  around, 

Tra,  la,  la! 

Ladies,  do  si  do, 

Gents,  you  know, 

Swing  to  the  right, 

And  then  to  the  left. 

And  all  promenade!" 


282  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Oh,  yes!  I  have  seen  Wades  and  Flemings  and  Hoi- 
brooks  and  all  the  rest  singing  and  hopping  about  to  the 
tune  of  We  Come  Here  to  Bounce  Around;  and  also 
We'll  All  Go  Down  to  Rowser;  and  Hey,  Jim  Along,  Jim 
Along  Josie;  and  Angelina  Do  Go  Home;  and  Good-by 
Susan  Jane;  and  Shoot  the  Buffalo;  and  Weevilly  Wheat; 
and  Sandy  He  Belonged  to  the  Mill;  and  I've  Been  to 
the  East,  I've  Been  to  the  West,  I've  Been  to  the  fay- 
Bird's  Altar;  and  Skip-to-My-Lou;  and  The  Juniper 
Tree;  and  Go  In  and  Out  the  Window;  and  The  Jolly 
Old  Miller;  and  Captain  Jinks;  and  lots  more  of  them. 
Boyds  and  Burnses  and  Smythes  tripping  the  light 
fantastic  with  them,  and  not  half  a  dozen  dresses  better 
than  alpacas  in  the  crowd,  and  the  men  many  of  them  in 
drilling  trousers — and  half  of  them  with  hayseed  in  their 
hair  from  the  load  on  which  they  rode  to  the  party !  So, 
ye  Iowa  aristocracy,  put  that  in  your  pipes  and  smoke  it, 
as  ye  bowl  over  the  country  in  your  automobiles — or  your 
airships,  as  I  suppose  it  may  be  before  you  read  this ! 

I  went  round  with  the  rest  of  them,  for  I  had  seen 
all  these  plays  on  the  canal  boats,  and  had  once  or  twice 
taken  part  in  them.  Kittie  Fleming,  very  graceful  and 
gracious  as  she  bowed  to  me,  and  as  I  swung  her  around, 
was  my  partner.  Bob  Wade  still  devoted  himself  to 
Virginia,  who  was  like  a  fairy  in  her  fine  pink  silk  dress. 

"This  is  enough  of  these  plays/'  shouted  Bob  at  last, 
after  looking  about  to  see  that  his  father  and  mother 
were  not  in  the  room.  "Let's  have  the  'Needle's  Eye' !" 

"The  'Needle's  Eye' !"  was  the  cry,  then. 

"I  won't  play  kissing  games !"  said  one  or  two  of  the 
girls. 

"Le's  have  The  Gav  Balonza  Man' !"  shouted  Doctor 


I  START  A  FEUD  283 

Bliven,  who  was  in  the  midst  of  the  gaieties,  while  his 
wife  too,  plunged  in  as  if  to  outdo  him. 

"Oh,  yes !"  she  said,  smiling  up  into  the  face  of  Frank 
Finster,  with  whom  she  had  been  playing.  "Let's  have 
The  Gay  Balonza  Man !'  It's  such  fun  !"* 

"The  Needle's  Eye"  won,  and  we  formed  in  a  long 
line  of  couples — Wades,  Finsters,  Flemings,  Bbyds  and 
the  rest  of  the  roll  of  present-day  aristocrats,  and 
marched,  singing,  between  a  boy  and  a  girl  standing  on 
chairs  with  their  hands  joined.  Here  is  the  song — I  can 
sing  the  tune  to-day : 

"The  needle's  eye, 
Which  doth  supply 
The  thread  which  runs  so  true; 
(And  many  a  lass 
(Have  I  let  pass 
or 


*One  here  discovers  a  curious  link  between  our  recent  past 
and  olden  times  in  our  Old  Home,  England.  This  game  has 
like  most  of  the  kissing  or  play-party  games  of  our  fathers  (and 
mothers)  more  than  one  version.  By  some  it  was  called  "The 
Gay  Galpney  Man,"  by  others  "The  Gay  Balonza  Man."  It  is  a 
last  vestige  of  the  customs  of  the  sixteenth  century  and  earlier  in 
England.  It  was  brought  over  by  our  ancestors,  and  survived  in 
Iowa  at  the  time  of  its  settlement,  and  probably  persists  still  in 
remote  localities  settled  by  British  immigrants.  The  "Gay  Ba 
lonza  Man"  must  be  the  character — the  traveling  beggar,  ped- 
ler  or  tinker, — who  was  the  hero  of  country-side  people,  and  of 
the  poem  attributed  to  James  V.  called  The  Gaberlunzie-Man 
(1512-1542)  in  which  the  event  is  summed  up  in  two  lines  relat 
ing  to  a  peasant  girl,  "She's  aff  wi  the  gaberlunzie-man."  The 
words  of  the  play  run  in  part  as  follows: 

"See  the  gay  balonza-man,  the  charming  gay  balonza-man; 
We'll  do  all  that  ever  we  can, 
To  cheat  the  gay  balonza-man  I" 

The  things  he  was  to  be  cheated  of  seemed  to  be  osculations. 
— G.  v.  d.  M. 


284  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

(And  many  a  beau 
(Have  I  let  go 
Because  I  wanted  you!" 

At  the  word  "you,"  the  two  on  the  chairs — they  were 
Lizzie  Finster  and  Charley  McKim  at  first — brought 
their  arms  down  and  caught  a  couple — they  caught  Kit- 
tie  and  me — who  were  at  that  moment  passing  through 
between  the  chairs — which  were  the  needle's  eye;  and 
then  they  sang,  giving  us  room  to  execute : 

"And  they  bow  so  neat ! 

And  they  kiss  so  sweet! 

We  do  intend  before  we  end,  to  have  this  couple  meet !" 

Crimson  of  face,  awkward  as  a  calf,  I  bowed  to  Kittie 
and  she  to  me;  and  then  she  threw  her  arms  about  me 
and  kissed  me  on  the  lips.  And  then  I  saw  her  wink 
slyly  at  Bob  Wade.  Then  Kittie  and  I  became  the 
needle's  eye  and  she  worked  it  so  we  caught  Bob  Wade 
and  Virginia,  even  though  it  was  necessary  to  wait  a 
moment  after  the  word  "you" — she  meant  to  do  it!  As 
Bob's  lips  met  Virginia's  I  groaned,  and  turning  my 
back  on  Kittie  Fleming,  I  rushed  out  of  the  room.  Judge 
Stone  tried  to  stop  me. 

5 

"Jake,  Jake !"  Judge  Stone  whispered  in  my  ear,  look 
ing  anxiously  around,  "have  you  seen  the  governor  in  the 
last  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour  ?" 

"He  hain't  been  in  here,"  I  said,  jerking  away  from 
him. 

"Sure?"  he  persisted.  "I've  looked  everywhere  ex 
cept  in  his  office  where  he  put  the  money — and  that's 
locked." 


I  START  A  FEUD  285 

I  broke  away  from  him  and  went  out.  I  had  no  de 
sire  to  see  Governor  Wade  or  any  one  else.  I  wanted  to 
be  alone.  I  had  seen  Virginia  kissed  by  Bob  Wade — 
and  they  were  still  singing  that  sickish  play  in  there. 
They  would  be  kissing  and  kissing  all  the  rest  of  the 
night.  She  to  be  kissed  in  this  way,  and  I  had  been  so 
careful  of  her,  when  I  was  all  alone  with  her  for  days, 
and  would  have  given  my  right  hand  for  a  kiss !  It  was 
terrible.  I  walked  back  and  forth  in  the  yard,  and  then 
came  up  on  the  porch  and  sat  down  on  a  bench,  so  as  to 
hear  the  play-singing.  They  were  singing  The  Gay  Ba- 
lonza-Man,  now.  I  started  up  once  to  walk  home,  but  I 
thought  that  Judge  Stone  was  paying  me  wages  for 
guarding  the  county's  money,  and  turned  to  go  back 
where  I  could  watch  the  games,  lured  by  a  sort  of  fas 
cination  to  see  how  many  times  Virginia  would  allow 
herself  to  be  kissed.  A  woman  came  out  of  the  house, 
and  in  passing  saw  and  recognized  me.  It  was  Mrs. 
Bliven.  She  dropped  down  on  the  bench. 

"My  God!"  she  sobbed.  "I'll  go  crazy !  I'll  kill  my 
self!" 

I  sat  down  again  on  the  bench.  She  had  been  so  hap 
py  a  few  minutes  ago,  to  all  appearances,  that  I  was  as 
tonished;  but  after  waiting  quite  a  while  I  could  think 
of  nothing  to  say  to  her.  So  I  turned  my  face  away  for 
fear  that  she  might  see  what  I  felt  must  show  in  it. 

"You're  in  trouble,  too,"  she  said.  "You  babies! 
My  God,  how  I'd  like  to  change  places  with  you!  Did 
you  see  him  kissing  them  ?" 

"Who?"  I  asked. 

"My  man,"  she  cried.  "Bliven.  You  know  how  it  is 
with  us.  You're  the  only  one  that  knows  about  me — 


286  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

about  us — Jake.  I've  been  scared  to  death  for  fear  you'd 
tell  ever  since  I  found  you  were  coming  here  to  live ;  and 
I  dasn't  tell  him — he  don't  know  you  know.  And  now  I 
almost  wish  you  would  tell — put  it  in  Dick  McGnTs 
paper.  He  wants  somebody  else  already.  A  woman 
that's  done  as  I  have — he  can  throw  me  away  like  an  old 
shoe!  But  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  if  he  ever 
shelves  me  you'll  let  the  world  know.  Did  you  see  him 
hugging  them  girls  ?  He's  getting  ready  to  shelve  me,  I 
tell  you !" 

I  sat  for  some  time  thinking  this  matter  over.  Fi 
nally  I  spoke,  and  she  seemed  surprised,  as  if  she  had 
forgotten  I  was  there. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  I.  "I  won't  tell  on 
you  just  because  you  think  you  want  me  to.  What 
wrould  happen  if  everything  in  the  lives  of  us  folks  out 
here  was  to  be  told,  especially  as  it  would  be  told  in  Dick 
McGill's  paper?  But  if  you  ever  find  out  for  sure  that 
he  is  going  to — going  to — to  shelve  you,  why,  come  to 
me,  and  I'll  go  to  him.  I  think  he  would  be  a  skunk  to — 
to  shelve  you.  And  I  don't  see  that — that — that  he — 
was  any  more  fairce  to  hug  and  kiss  than — than  some 
others.  Than  you!" 

"Or  you,"  said  she,  sort  of  snickering  through  her 
tears. 

"I  hated  it !"  I  said. 

"So  did  I,"  said  she. 

"Maybe  Doc  did,  too,"  I  suggested. 

"No,"  she  replied,  after  a  while.  "I'll  tell  you,  Jake, 
I'll  hold  you  to  your  promise.  Sometime  I  may  come  to 
you  or  send  for  you.  May  I  ?" 


I  START  A  FEUD  287 

"Any  time/'  I  answered,  and  she  went  in,  seeming 
quite  cheered  up.  I  suppose  she  needed  that  blow-off, 
like  an  engine  too  full  of  steam.  I  wonder  if  it  was 
wrong  to  feel  for  her?  But  it  must  be  remembered  that 
I  had  very  little  religious  bringing  up. 

Well,  the  party  came  to  an  end  presently,  and  Judge 
Stone  came  out  and  holloed  for  me  to  bring  the  team. 
When  I  drove  up  to  the  door  he  asked  me  in  a  low  tone 
to  come  and  help  carry  the  money  out.  The  governor 
unlocked  his  office,  and  then  the  safe,  and  took  out  the 
bag,  which  he  handed  to  Judge  Stone. 

"Heavy  as  ever,"  said  the  judge.  "Catch  hold  here, 
Jake,  and  help  me  carry  it." 

"A  heavy  responsibility  at  least,"  said  the  governor. 

The  governor's  hired  people  of  whom  he  had  always 
a  large  force  had  not  taken  part  in  the  proceedings  of  the 
party,  but  most  of  them  were  gathered  about  as  we  took 
our  departure.  They  were  to  a  great  extent  the  younger 
men  among  the  settlers,  and  the  governor  in  later  times 
never  got  tired  of  saying  how  much  he  had  done  for  the 
early  settlers  in  giving  them  employment. 
^-"N.  V.  Creede  in  answering  him  in  campaigns  always 
said  that  if  he  gave  the  boys  work,  they  gave  the  gover 
nor  labor  in  return,  and  at  a  dollar  a  day  it  seemed  to 
him  that  the  governor  was  the  one  who  was  under  obli 
gations  to  them.  It  is  a  curious  thing  that  people  who 
receive  money  are  supposed  to  be  under  obligations  to 
ithose  who  pay  it,  no  matter  what  the  deal  may  be.  We 
<say  "thank  you"  to  the  man  who  pays  us  for  a  day's 
wages ;  but  why,  if  the  work  is  worth  the  money  ? 

Well,  as  I  looked  about  among  the  governor's  work 
ing  people,  as  I  have  said,  I  saw  a  head  taller  than  the 


288  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

rest,  the  big  form  of  Pitt  Bushyager.  He  was  looking  at 
me  with  that  daredevil  smile  of  his,  the  handsomest  man 
there,  with  his  curling  brown  mustache  and  goatee ;  and 
nodded  at  me  as  the  judge  got  into  the  carriage  in  the 
back  seat  with  Mrs.  Stone,  and  Virginia  came  up  in  her 
pretty  pink  silk,  with  the  Paisley  shawl  around  her 
shoulders,  to  be  helped  up  into  the  front  seat  with  me. 
The  satchel  of  money  was  placed  under  the  seat  where 
the  judge  could  feel  it  with  his  feet. 

We  drove  off  in  that  silence  which  comes  with  the 
drowsiness  that  follows  excitement,  especially  along  to 
ward  morning.  The  night  was  dark  and  still.  Virginia's 
presence  reminded  me  of  those  days  of  happiness  when 
we  drove  into  Iowa  alone  together ;  but  I  was  not  happy. 
I  had  lived  with  this  girl  in  my  dreams  ever  since,  and 
now  I  faced  the  wrench  of  giving  her  up ;  for  I  repeated 
in  my  own  mind  over  and  over  again  that  she  would 
never  think  of  me  with  such  big  bugs  as  Bob  Wade 
shining  around  her. 

The  Judge  and  Mrs.  Stone  were  talking  together 
now,  and  I  heard  references  to  the  money.  Then  I  be 
gan  to  turn  over  in  my  slow  mind  the  fact,  known  to 
me  alone,  that  there  was  a  man  at  the  Wade  farm  wKo 
was  one  of  a  band  of  thieves,  and  who  knew  about  our 
having  the  money.  If  he  really  was  connected  with  the 
Bunker  boys,  what  was  more  likely  than  that  he  had 
ways  of  passing  the  word  along  to  some  of  them  who 
might  be  waiting  to  rob  us  on  our  way  home?  But  the 
crime  that  I  was  sure  had  been  committed  back  along 
the  road  the  spring  before  had  been  horse-stealing1.  I 
wondered  whether  or  not  the  business  of  outlawry  was 
not  specialized,  so  that  some  stole  horses,  others  robbed 
banks,  others  were  highwaymen,  and  the  like. 


I  START  A  FEUD  289 

All  this  time  Virginia  seemed  to  be  snuggling-  up  a  lit 
tle  closer.  Maybe  Pitt  Bushyager  and  his  brothers  were 
just  plain  horse-thieves,  and  nothing  else.  Perhaps  they 
were  just  hired  to  help  drive  in  the  horses;  but  why, 
then,  did  Pitt  have  two  animals  in  Monterey  Centre 
when  I  saw  him  there  the  morning  I  arrived? 

6 

Jim  Boyd's  light  buggy  had  got  far  ahead  of  us,  out 
of  hearing,  and  the  lumber  wagons,  with  the  bulk  of  the 
crowd,  were  far  in  the  rear.  We  were  alone.  As  we 
came  to  a  road  which  wound  off  to  the  south  toward 
where  there  was  a  settlement  of  Hoosiers  who  had  made 
a  trail  to  the  Wade  place,  I  turned  off  and  followed  it, 
knowing  that  when  I  got  to  the  Hoosier  settlement,  I 
should  find  a  road  into  the  Centre.  It  was  a  mistake 
made  a-purpose,  done  on  that  instinct  which  protects  the 
man  who  feels  that  he  may  be  trailed.  I  was  on  an  un 
expected  path  to  any  one  waiting  for  us.  Finally  Vir 
ginia  spoke  to  me. 

"How  is  our  farm?"  she  asked. 

Now  I  had  not  forgotten  how  she  had  been  kissed  by 
Bob  Wade,  and  probably,  while  I  was  outside  sulking,  by 
a  dozen  others.  By  instinct  again — the  instinct  of  a  jeal 
ous  boy — I  started  in  to  punish  her. 

"All  right/'  I  said  surlily. 

"What  crops  have  you  planted?"  she  went  on. 

"About  ten  acres  of  wheat,"  I  said,  "and  the  rest  of 
my  breaking  in  corn  and  oats.  You  see,  I  have  to  put  in 
all  the  time  I  can  in  breaking." 

"How  is  the  white  heifer?"  she  asked,  inquiring  as  to 
one  of  my  cattle  that  she  had  petted  a  lot. 

"She  has  a  calf,"  said  I. 


2QO  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Oh,  has  she?  How  I  wish  I  could  see  it!  What 
color  is  it?" 

"Spotted." 

There  followed  a  long  silence,  during  which  we  went 
farther  and  farther  off  the  road. 

"Jake,"  said  the  judge,  "whose  house  is  that  we  just 
passed?" 

"It's  that  new  Irishman's,"  said  I.  "Mike  Cosgrove, 
ain't  that  his  name?" 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  judge,  "we're  off  the  road. 
Stop!" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  made  the  wrong  turn  back  there. 
It's  only  a  little  farther." 

The  judge  was  plainly  put  out  about  this.  He  even 
wanted  to  go  back  to  the  regular  road  again,  and  when 
I  explained  that  we  would  soon  reach  a  trail  which 
would  lead  right  into  the  Centre,  he  still  persisted. 

"If  we  were  to  be  robbed  on  this  out-of-the-way 
road,"  said  he,  "it  would  look  funny." 

"It  would  look  funnier,"  I  said,  "if  we  were  to  go 
back  and  then  get  robbed.  Any  one  waiting  to  rob  us 
would  be  on  the  regular  road,  wouldn't  they?" 

So  I  stubbornly  drove  on,  the  judge  grumbling  all 
the  while  for  a  mile  or  so.  Then  he  and  Mrs.  Stone  be 
gan  talking  in  a  low  tone,  under  the  cover  of  which  Vir 
ginia  resumed  her  conversation  with  me. 

"You  are  a  stubborn  Dutchman,"  said  she.  To  which 
I  saw  no  need  of  making  any  reply. 

"You  seemed  to  have  a  good  time,"  she  said, 
presently. 

"I  didn't,"  said  I.  "I'm  nobody  by  the  side  of  such 
people  as  Bob  Wade.  I  wasn't  even  invited.  I'm  just 


I  START  A  FEUD  291 

paid  to  come  along  with  the  judge  to  protect  the  county's 
money.  You'll  never  see  me  again  at  any  of  your  grand 
kissing  parties." 

"It  was  the  first  I  ever  went  to,"  said  she ;  "but  you 
seemed  to  know  what  to  do  pretty  well — you  and  Kittie 
Fleming." 

This  stumped  me  for  a  while,  and  we  drove  on  in 
silence. 

"I  didn't  kiss  her,"  I  said. 

"It  looked  like  it,"  said  Virginia. 

"She  kissed  me,"  I  protested. 

"You  seemed  to  like  it,"  she  insisted. 

"I  didn't !"  I  said,  mad  all  over.  "And  I  quit  just  as 
soon  as  the  kissing  began." 

"You  ought  to  have  stayed,"  she  said  stiffly.  "The 
fun  was  just  beginning  when  you  flounced  out." 

And  then  came  one  of  the  interesting  events  of  this 
eventful  night.  We  turned  into  the  main  road  to  Mon 
terey  Centre,  just  where  Duncan  McAlpine's  barn  now 
stands,  and  I  thought  I  saw  down  in  the  hollow  where  it 
was  still  dark,  though  the  light  was  beginning  to  dawn  in 
the  east,  a  clump  of  dark  objects  like  cattle  or  horses — 
or  horsemen.  As  I  looked,  they  moved  into  the  road  as 
if  to  stop  us.  I  drew  my  pistol,  fired  it  over  their  heads, 
and  they  scattered.  Then,  I  was  scared  still  more,  by  a 
sound  as  of  a  cavalry  or  a  battery  of  artillery  coming  be 
hind  us.  It  was  three  loads  of  people  on  the  hayracks, 
who  had  overtaken  us  on  account  of  our  having  gone  by 
the  roundabout  way ;  coming  at  a  keen  gallop  down  the 
hill  to  have  the  credit  of  passing  a  fancy  carriage.  They 
passed  us  like  a  tornado ;  shouting  as  they  went  by,  ask 
ing  what  I  had  shot  at,  and  telling  us  to  hurry  up  so  as 


292  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

to  get  home  by  breakfast  time.  The  horsemen  ahead, 
whatever  might  have  been  their  plans,  did  not  seem  to 
care  to  argue  matters  with  so  large  a  force,  and  rode  off 
in  several  directions,  while  I  pressed  close  to  the  rear  of 
the  last  hayrack.  Thus  we  drove  into  Monterey  Centre. 

"What  did  you  shoot  for?"  asked  the  judge  as  we 
stopped  at  his  house. 

"I  wanted  to  warn  a  lot  of  men  on  horseback  that 
were  heading  us  off,  that  there'd  be  trouble  if  they  tried 
to  stop  us,"  I  answered. 

"Damned  foolishness,"  said  the  judge.  "Well,  come 
in  and  let's  have  a  bite  to  eat" 

7 

Virginia  was  staying  with  them  the  rest  of  the  night ; 
but  as  I  helped  her  out,  feeling  in  her  stiffness  that  she 
was  offended  with  me,  I  insisted  that  I  would  go  on 
home.  The  judge,  who  had  been  ready  to  abuse  me  a 
moment  before,  now  took  hold  of  me  and  forced  me  into 
the  house.  As  we  went  in  carrying  the  satchel,  he  lifted 
it  up  on  the  table. 

"We  may  as  well  take  a  look  at  it,"  said  he. 

Mrs.  Stone  and  Virginia  and  I  all  stood  by  the  table 
as  he  unsnapped  the  catch  and  opened  the  bag.  It  was 
full  almost  to  the  top. 

"That  ain't  the  way  I  packed  that  money!"  said  the 
judge. 

His  hands  trembled  as  he  pulled  the  contents  out.  It 
was  full  of  the  bags  and  wrappers  in  which  the  money 
had  been  packed,  according  to  the  judge's  tell ;  but  there 
was  no  money  in  the  wrappers,  and  the  bags  were  full, 
not  of  coins,  but  of  common  salt.  That  was  what  made 
it  so  heavy;  and  that  was  what  always  made  it  such  a 


I  START  A  FEUD  293 

mystery:  for  all  the  salt  used  in  Monterey  County  then 
was  common  barrel  salt.  It  was  the  same  kind,  whether 
it  was  got  from  the  barrel  from  which  the  farmer  salted 
his  cattle,  or  from  the  supply  in  the  kitchen  of  the 
dweller  in  the  town.  There  was  no  clue  in  it.  It  was 
just  salt!  We  all  cried  out  in  surprise,  not  understand 
ing  that  we  were  looking  at  the  thing  which  was  to  be 
fought  over  until  either  Judge  Stone  or  Governor  Wade 
was  destroyed. 

"I  am  ruined!"  Judge  Stone  fell  back  into  a  chair 
groaning.  Then  he  jumped  to  his  feet.  "They've  taken 
it  out  while  we  were  at  the  party!"  he  shouted.  "The 
damned,  canting,  sniveling  old  thief!  No  wonder  he's 
got  money!  He  probably  stole  it  where  he  came  from! 
Jake,  we've  got  to  go  back  and  make  him  give  this  money 
back — come  on!" 

"Make  who  give  it  back?"  I  asked. 

"Who?"  said  he.  "Why  old  DeWitt  Clinton  Wade, 
the  old  thief!  Who  else  had  the  key  to  the  office  or 
knew  how  to  open  that  safe?  Come  on,  Jake,  and  bring 
your  pistol!" 

I  handed  him  the  pistol. 

"I  agreed  to  guard  you  and  the  county's  money,"  I 
said,  "and  that's  all.  You  hain't  got  the  county's  money, 
it  seems,  and  my  job's  over.  I've  got  to  break  prairie 
to-day,  and  I  guess  I'd  better  be  going !" 

I  passed  out  of  the  door,  and  as  I  went  I  heard  them 
— the  judge  and  his  wife,  and  I  thought  Virginia  joined 
in— condemning  me  for  deserting  them.  But  I  needed 
to  think  this  thing  over  before  I  could  see  into  it.  It 
looked  pretty  dark  for  some  one  then,  and  I  saw  it  was 


294  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

a  matter  to  see  N.  V.  about  before  taking  any  further 
part. 

I  never  have  seen  through  it.  There  it  was:  The 
money  in  the  treasury,  and  supposed  to  be  in  the  bag, 
and  placed  in  Governor  Wade's  safe.  There  were  the 
two  men,  both  supposed  to  be  rich.  There  was  the  time, 
when  the  kissing  games  were  going  on,  when  the  gover 
nor  was  not  seen  by  any  of  his  guests.  The  governor 
was  rich  always  afterward,  while  the  judge  struggled 
along  with  adversity  and  finally  went  away  from  the 
county  poor  as  a  church  mouse.  Then  there  was  the  jin 
gle  I  seemed  to  remember  at  starting,  and  Judge  Stone's 
twice  speaking  of  it — the  jingle  Virginia  did  not  hear. 
Salt  does  not  jingle. 

For  a  long  time  it  appeared  to  me  that  these  things 
seemed  to  prove  that  the  governor  got  the  money;  but 
lately,  since  both  the  men  have  passed  away,  I  have  had 
my  doubts.  Judge  Stone  was  a  much  nicer  man  than  the 
governor  to  meet  up  with,  but — well,  what's  the  use  ?  It 
is  long  past.  It  was  past  for  me,  too,  as  I  walked  out  to 
my  farm  that  morning  as  the  dawn  broadened  into  day, 
with  the  prairie-chickens  singing  their  wonderful  morn 
ing  song,  and  the  blue- joint  grass  soaking  me  with  dew 
to  my  knees. 

At  that  moment,  or  soon  after,  in  a  stormy  encounter 
at  the  Wade  farm,  with  witnesses  that  the  judge  took 
with  him,  began  the  great  Wade-Stone  feud  of  Monterey 
County,  Iowa.  It  lasted  until  the  flood  of  new  settlers 
floated  it  away  in  a  freshet  of  new  issues  during  and 
after  the  great  Civil  War. 

I  took  the   story  to  N.  V.   as   soon  as   I  went  to 


I  START  A  FEUD  295 

town.    He  sat  looking  at  me  with  a  mysterious  grin  on 
his  face,  as  I  told  him  of  the  loss  of  the  county  funds. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "this  will  make  history.  I  venture 
the  assertion  that  the  case  will  be  compromised.  I  can't 
see  this  close  corporation  of  a  county  government  mak 
ing  Stone's  bondsmen  pay  the  loss.  Or  Stone  either. 
And  I  can't  see  any  one  getting  that  amount  of  money 
out  of  old  Wade,  whether  it  was  in  the  bag  when  it  went 
into  his  safe  or  not.  Your  testimony  on  the  jingle  fea 
ture  ain't  worth  a  cuss.  The  Bunker  boys  had  that  bag 
marked  for  their  own ;  for  we  know  now  that  they  were 
out  on  a  raid  that  night  and  cleaned  up  several  good 
horses.  I  must  say,  Jake,  that  you  are  a  hell  of  a  hired 
man.  If  you  had  kept  the  main  road,  this  trouble  which 
will  raise  blazes  with  things  in  this  county  till  you  and  I 
are  gray-headed,  never  would  have  happened.  The 
Bunkers  would  have  had  that  salt,  and  everybody  else 
would  have  had  an  alibi.  Maybe  it  was  Judge  Stone's 
instinct  for  party  harmony  that  made  him  cross  at  you 
for  dodging  the  Bunkers  by  driving  down  by  the  Hoosier 
settlement.  He  was  cross,  wasn't  he  ?  Instinct  is  a  great 
matter,  says  Falstaff.  He  was  mad  on  instinct,  I 
reckon!  And  you  drove  off  the  road  on  instinct.  'Be 
ware  instinct,'  say  I  on  the  authority  aforesaid.  It 
would  have  smoothed  matters  all  out  if  the  Bunker  boys 
had  got  that  salt !" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  FEWKESES  IN  CLOVER  AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR 

TOWA  lived  in  the  future  in  those  days.  It  was  a  land 
•^  of  poverty  and  privations  and  small  things,  but  a  land 
of  dreams.  We  shivered  in  the  winter  storms,  and 
dreamed;  we  plowed  and  sowed  and  garnered  in;  but 
the  great  things,  the  happy  things,  were  our  dreams  and 
visions.  We  felt  that  we  were  plowing  the  field  of  destiny 
and  sowing  for  the  harvest  of  history;  but  we  scarcely 
thought  it.  The  power  that  went  out  of  us  as  we  scored 
that  wonderful  prairie  sod  and  built  those  puny  towns 
was  the  same  power  that  nerved  the  heart  of  those  who 
planted  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island  and  Virginia, 
the  power  that  has  thrilled  the  world  whenever  the  white 
man  has  gone  forth  to  put  a  realm  under  his  feet. 

Our  harvest  of  that  day  seems  pitifully  small  as  I  sit 
on  my  veranda  and  look  at  my  barns  and  silos,  and  see  the 
straight  rows  of  corn  leaning  like  the  characters  of  God's 
handwriting  across  the  broad  intervale  of  Vandemark's 
Folly  flat,  sloping  to  the  loving  pressure  of  the  steady 
warm  west  wind  of  Iowa,  and  clapping  a  million  dark 
green  hands  in  acclamation  of  the  full  tide  of  life  sucked 
up  from  the  richest  breast  that  Mother  Earth  in  all  her 
bountiful  curves  turns  to  the  lips  of  her  offspring.  But 
all  our  children  for  all  future  generations  shall  help  to 
put  the  harvests  of  those  days  into  the  barns  and  silos 

296 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  297 

of  the  future  state.  God  save  it  from  the  mildews  of 
monopoly  and  tyranny,  and  the  Red  rot  of  insurrection 
and  from  repression's  explosions! 

We  were  children,  most  of  those  of  whom  I  have  been 
writing.  It  was  a  baby  county,  a  baby  state,  and  Vande- 
mark  Township  was  still  struggling  up  toward  birth. 
"The  thoughts  of  youth  are  long,  long  thoughts":  but 
after  all  they  are  only  the  stirrings  of  the  event  in  the 
womb  of  life.  I  would  not  have  married  Virginia  on  the 
day  after  the  party  at  Judge  Stone's  if  she  had  in  some 
way  conveyed  to  me  that  she  wanted  me.  I  should  not 
have  dared ;  for  I  was  a  child.  I  suppose  that  Magnus 
would  have  taken  Rowena  Fewkes  in  a  minute,  for  he 
was  older;  but  I  don't  know.  It  takes  a  Norwegian  or 
a  Swede  a  long  time  to  get  ripe. 

The  destinies  of  the  county  and  state  were  in  the  hands 
of  youth,  dreaming  of  the  future :  and  when  the  untamed 
prairie  turned  and  bit  us,  as  it  did  in  frosts  and  blizzards 
and  floods  and  locusts  and  tornadoes,  we  said  to  each 
other,  like  the  boy  in  the  story  when  the  dog  bit  his  father, 
"Grin  and  bear  it,  Dad !  It'll  be  the  makin'  o'  the  pup !" 
Even  the  older  men  like  Judge  Stone  and  Governor  Wade 
and  Elder  Thorndyke  and  heads  of  families  like  the 
Bemisdarfers,  were  dreamers:  and  as  for  such  ne'er-do- 
weels  as  the  Fewkeses,  they,  with  Celebrate's  schemes  for 
making  money,  and  Surrager's  inventions,  and  their  plans 
for  palaces  and  estates,  were  only  a  little  more  absurd  in 
their  visions  than  the  rest  of  us.  The  actual  life  of  to-day 
is  to  the  dreams  of  that  day  as  the  wheat  plant  to  the  lily. 
It  starts  to  be  a  lily,  but  the  finger  and  thumb  of  destiny — 
mainly  in  the  form  of  heredity — turn  it  into  the  wheat, 
and  then  into  the  prosaic  flour  and  bran  in  the  bins. 


298  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

As  I  came  driving  into  Monterey  County,  every  day 
had  its  event,  different  from  that  of  the  day  before;  but 
now  comes  a  period  when  I  must  count  by  years,  not  days, 
and  a  lot  of  time  passes  without  much  to  record.  As  for 
the  awful  to-do  about  the  county's  lost  money,  I  heard 
nothing  of  it,  except  when,  once  in  a  while,  somebody, 
nosing  into  the  matter  for  one  reason  or  another,  would 
come  prying  around  to  ask  me  about  it.  I  began  by  telling 
them  the  whole  story  whenever  they  asked,  and  Hender 
son  L.  Burns  once  took  down  what  I  said  and  made  me 
swear  to  it.  Whenever  I  came  to  the  jingle  of  the  money 
in  the  bag  as  we  put  it  in  the  carriage  on  starting  for  the 
Wades',  they  cross-examined  me  till  I  said  I  sort  of 
seemed  to  kind  of  remember  that  it  jingled,  and  anyhow 
I  recollected  that  Judge  Stone  had  said  "Hear  it  jingle, 
Jake !"  This  proved  either  that  the  money  was  there  and 
jingled,  or  that  it  wasn't  there  and  that  the  judge  was,  as 
N.  V.  said,  "As  guilty  as  hell." 

Dick  McGill  didn't  know  which  way  the  cat  would 
jump,  and  kept  pretty  still  about  it  in  his  paper;  but  he 
printed  a  story  on  me  that  made  everybody  laugh.  "There 
was  once  a  Swede,"  said  the  paper,  "that  was  running 
away  from  the  minions  of  the  law,  and  took  refuge  in  a 
cabin  where  they  covered  him  with  a  gunny  sack.  When 
the  Hawkshaws  came  they  asked  for  the  Swede.  No 
information  forthcoming.  'What's  in  that  bag?'  asked 
the  minions.  'Sleighbells,'  replied  the  accomplices.  The 
minion  kicked  the  bag,  and  there  came  forth  from  under 
it  the  cry,  'Yingle !  Yingle !'  We  know  a  Dutchman  who 
is  addicted  to  the  same  sort  of  ventriloquism."  (Mon 
terey  Journal,  September  3,  1857.) 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  299 

In  1856  we  cut  our  grain  with  cradles.  In  1857 
Magnus  and  I  bought  a  Seymour  &  Morgan  hand-rake 
reaper.  I  drove  two  yoke  of  cows  to  this  machine,  and 
Magnus  raked  off.  I  don't  think  we  gained  much  over 
cradling,  except  that  we  could  work  nights  with  the  cows, 
and  bind  day-times,  or  the  other  way  around  when  the 
straw  in  the  gavels  got  dry  and  harsh  so  that  heads  would 
pull  off  as  we  cinched  up  the  sheaves.  At  that  very  mo 
ment,  the  Marsh  brothers  back  in  De  Kalb  County,  Illi 
nois,  were  working  on  the  greatest  invention  ever  given  to 
agriculture  since  the  making  of  the  first  steel  plow,  the 
Marsh  Harvester. 

Every  year  we  broke  some  prairie,  and  our  cultivated 
land  increased.  By  the  fall  of  1857,  my  little  cottonwood 
trees  showed  up  in  a  pretty  grove  of  green  for  a  distance 
of  two  or  three  miles,  and  were  ten  to  fifteen  feet  high : 
so  I  could  lie  in  the  shade  of  the  trees  I  had  planted. 

But  if  the  trees  flourished,  the  community  did  not. 
The  panic  of  1857  came  on  in  the  summer  and  fall ;  but 
we  knew  nothing,  out  in  our  little  cabins,  of  the  excite 
ment  in  the  cities,  the  throngs  on  Wall  Street  and  in 
Philadelphia,  the  closing  banks,  the  almost  universal 
bankruptcy  of  the  country.  It  all  came  from  land  specula 
tion.  According  to  what  they  said,  there  was  more  land 
then  laid  out  in  town-sites  in  Kansas  than  in  all  the  cities 
and  towns  of  the  settled  parts  of  the  country.  In  Iowa 
there  were  town-sites  along  all  the  streams  and  scattered 
all  over  the  prairies.  Everybody  was  in  debt,  in  the  busi 
ness  world,  and  when  land  stopped  growing  in  value, 
sales  stopped,  and  then  the  day  of  reckoning  came.  All 
financial  panics  come  from  land  speculation.  Show  me 


300  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

a  way  to  keep  land  from  advancing  in  value,  and  I  will 
tell  you  how  to  prevent  financial  panics.* 

But,  though  we  knew  nothing  about  this  general 
wreck  and  ruin  back  east,  we  knew  that  we  were  miser 
ably  poor.  In  the  winter  of  1857-8  Magnus  and  I  w«re 
beggarly  ragged  and  so  short  of  fuel  and  bedding  that  he 
came  over  and  stayed  with  me,  so  that  we  ccfcild  get  along 
with  one  bed  and  one  fire.  My  buffalo  robes  were  the 
things  that  kept  us  warm,  those  howling  nights,  or  when 
it  was  so  still  that  we  could  hear  the  ice  crack  in  the 
creek  eighty  rods  off.  My  wife  has  always  said  that 
Magnus  and  I  holed  up  in  our  den  like  wild  animals,  and 
sometimes  like  a  certain  domestic  one.  But  what  with 
Magnus  and  the  fiddle  and  his  stories  of  Norway  and 
mine  of  the  canal  we  amused  ourselves  pretty  well  and 
got  along1  without  baths.  My  cows,  and  the  chickens, 
and  our  vegetables  and  potatoes,  and  our  white  and  buck 
wheat  flour  and  the  corn-meal  mush  and  johnny-cake  kept 
us  fat,  and  I  entirely  outgrew  my  best  suit,  so  that  I  put 
it  on  for  every  day,  and  burst  it  at  most  of  the  seams 
in  a  week. 

2 

I  was  sorry  for  the  people  in  the  towns,  and  sold  most 
of  my  eggs,  fowls,  butter,  cream  and  milk  on  credit :  and 
though  Virginia  and  I  were  not  on  good  terms  and  I 
never  went  to  see  her  any  more;  and  though  Grandma 


*The  author,  when  feis  attention  is  called  to  the  Mississippi 
Bubble,  iwsists  that  it  was  nothing  mere  nor  less  than  betting  on 
the  land  development  of  a  great  new  region.  As  to  the  "Tulip- 
omania"  which  once  created  a  small  panic  in  Holland,  he  insists 
that  such  a  fool  notion  can  not  often  occur,  and  never  can  have 
wide-spread  results  like  a  genuine  financial  panic.  In  which  the 
editor  is  inclined  to  believe  the  best  economists  w'll  agree  with 
him. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  301 

Thorndyke  was,  I  felt  sure,  trying  to  get  Virginia's  mind 
fixed  on  a  better  match,  like  Bob  Wade  or  Paul  Hoi- 
brook,  I  used  to  take  eggs,  butter,  milk  or  flour  to  the 
elder's  family  almost  every  time  I  went  to  town:  and 
when  the  weather  was  warm  enough  so  that  they  would 
not  freeze,  I  took  potatoes,  turnips,  and  sometimes  some 
cabbage  for  a  boiled  dinner,  with  a  piece  of  pork  to  go 
with  it. 

When  the  elder  found  out  who  was  sending  it  he 
tried  to  thank  me,  but  I  made  him  promise  not  to  tell  his 
family  where  these  things  came  from,  on  pain  of  not  get 
ting  any  more.  I  said  I  had  as  good  right  to  contribute 
to  the  church  as  any  one,  and  just  because  I  had  no 
money  it  was  tough  to  have  the  little  I  could  give  made 
public.  By  this  time  I  had  worked  up  quite  a  case,  and 
was  looking  like  a  man  injured  in  his  finest  feelings  and 
twitted  of  his  poverty.  The  elder  looked  bewildered,  and 
promised  that  he  wouldn't  tell. 

"But  I'm  sure,  Jake,  that  the  Lord  won't  let  your  good 
ness  go  unrewarded,  in  the  next  world,  anyhow,  and  I 
don't  think  in  this." 

I  don't  think  he  actually  told,  but  I  have  reason  to 
believe  he  hinted.  In  fact,  Kittie  Fleming  told  me  when 
I  went  down  to  their  place  after  some  seed  oats,  that 
Grandma  Thorndyke  had  said  at  the  Flemings'  dinner 
table  that  I  was  an  exemplary  boy,  in  my  way,  and  when 
I  grew  up  I  would  make  some  girl  a  husband  who  would 
be  kind  and  a  good  provider. 

"I  was  awful  interested,"  she  said. 

"Why?"  I  asked ;  for  I  couldn't  see  for  the  life  of  me 
how  it  interested  her. 

"I'm  a  girl,"  said  she,  "and  I  feel  interested  in — in — 


302  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

in  such  things — husbands,  and  good  providers."  Here 
I  grew  hot  all  over,  and  twisted  around  like  a  worm  on 
a  hot  griddle.  "I  didn't  think,  when  you  were  playing 
the  needle's  eye  with  me,  that  you  acted  as  if  you  would 
be  a  very  good  husband !" 

I  peeked  up  at  her  through  my  eyebrows,  and  saw  she 
was  grinning  at  me,  and  sort  of  blushing,  herself.  But 
I  had  only  one  word  for  her. 

"Why?" 

"You  didn't  seem  to — to —  kiss  back  very  much,"  she 
giggled ;  and  as  I  was  struggling  to  think  of  something 
to  say  (for  it  seemed  a  dreadful  indictment  as  I  looked 
at  her,  so  winning  to  a  boy  who  hadn't  seen  a  girl  for 
weeks)  she  ran  off;  and  it  was  not  till  I  was  sitting  by 
the  stove  at  home  after  washing  up  the  dishes  that  eve 
ning  that  I  thought  what  a  fine  retort  it  would  have  been 
if  I  had  offered  to  pay  back  then,  with  interest,  all  I  owed 
her  in  the  way  of  response.  I  spent  much  of  the  evening 
making  up  nice  little  speeches  which  I  wished  I  had  had 
the  sprawl  to  get  off  on  the  spur  of  the  moment.  I  grew 
fiery  hot  at  the  thought  of  how  badly  I  had  come  off  in 
this  little  exchange  of  compliments  with  Kittie.  Poor 
Kittie !  She  supped  sorrow  with  a  big  spoon  before  many 
years  ;  and  then  had  a  long  and  happy  life.  I  forgave  her. 
even  at  the  time,  for  making  fun  of  the  Hell  Slew  Dutch 
boy.  All  the  girls  made  fun  of  me  but  Virginia,  and  she 
did  sometimes — Virginia  and  Rowena  Fewkes. 

Thinking  of  Rowena  reminded  me  of  the  fact  that  I 
had  not  seen  any  of  the  Fewkeses  for  nearly  two  years. 
This  brought  up  the  thought  of  Buck  Gowdy,  who  had 
carried  them  off  to  his  great  farmstead  which  he  called 
Blue-grass  Manor.  Whenever  I  was  in  conversation  with 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  3°3 

him  I  was  under  a  kind  of  strain,  for  all  the  fact  that  he 
was  as  friendly  with  me  as  he  was  with  any  one  else.  I 
remembered  how  I  had  smuggled  Virginia  away  from 
him;  and  wondered  whether  or  not  he  had  got  intimate 
enough  by  this  time  at  Elder  Thorndyke's  so  that  she  had 
given  him  any  inkling  as  to  my  share  in  that  matter. 

This  brought  me  back  to  Virginia — and  then  the  whole 
series  of  Virginia  dreams  recurred.  She  sat  in  the  chair 
which  I  had  bought  for  her,  in  the  warm  corner  next  the 
window.  She  was  sewing.  She  was  reading  to  me.  She 
was  coming  over  to  my  chair  to  sit  in  my  lap  while  we 
talked  over  our  adventures.  She  looked  at  my  chapped 
and  cracked  hands  and  told  me  I  must  wear  my  mittens 
every  minute.  She — but  every  boy  can  go  on  with  the 
series :  every  boy  who  has  been  in  the  hopeless  but  bliss 
ful  state  in  which  I  then  was :  a  state  which  out  of  hope 
lessness  generates  hope  as  a  dynamo  generates  current. 

This  was  followed  by  days  of  dark  despondency. 
Magnus  Thorkelson  and  I  were  working  together  plowing 
for  oats,  for  we  did  not  work  our  oats  on  the  corn  ground 
of  last  year  then  as  we  do  now,  and  he  tried  to  cheer  me 
up.  I  had  been  wishing  that  I  had  never  left  the  canal ; 
for  there  I  always  had  good  clothes  and  money  in  my 
pocket.  We  couldn't  stay  in  this  country,  I  said.  No 
body  had  any  money  except  a  few  money  sharks,  and 
they  robbed  every  one  that  borrowed  of  them  with  their 
two  per  cent,  a  month.  I  was  getting  raggeder  and  rag- 
geder  every  day.  I  wished  I  had  not  bought  this  other 
eighty.  I  wished  I  had  done  anything  rather  than  what 
I  had  done.  I  wished  I  knew  where  I  could  get  work  at 
fair  wages,  and  I  would  let  the  farm  go — I  would  that! 


304  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

I  would  be  gosh-blasted  if  I  wouldn't,  by  Golding's  bow- 
key!* 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Magnus,  "you  shouldn't  talk  so! 
Ve  got  plenty  to  eat.  Dere  bane  lots  people  in  Norvay 
would  yump  at  de  shance  to  yange  places  wit'  us.  What 
nice  land  here  in  lovay!  Some  day  you  bane  rich  man. 
All  dis  slew  bane  some  day  dry  for  plow.  I  see  it  in 
Norvay  and  Sveden.  And  now  dat  ve  got  ralroad,  dere 
bane  t'ousan's  an'  t'ousan's  people  in  Norvay,  and  Den 
mark,  and  Sveden  and  Yermany  come  here  to  lovay,  an* 
you  an'  your  vife  an'  shildern  bane  big  bugs.  Yust  vait, 
Yake.  Maybe  you  see  your  sons  in  county  offices  an' 
your  girls  married  vit  bankers,  an'  your  vife  vare  new 
calico  dress  every  day.  Yust  vait,  Yake.  And  to-night 
I  pop  some  corn  if  you  furnish  butter,  hey?" 

To  hear  the  pop-corn  going  off  in  the  skillet,  like  the 
volleys  of  musketry  we  were  so  soon  to  hear  at  Shiloh ;  to 
see  Magnus  with  his  coat  off,  stirring  it  round  and  round 
in  the  sizzling  butter  until  one  or  two  big  white  kernels 
popped  out  as  a  warning  that  the  whole  regiment  was 
about  to  fire;  to  see  him,  with  his  red  hair  all  over  his 
freckled  face,  lift  the  hissing  skillet  and  shake  it  until  the 
volleys  died  down  to  sharpshooting  across  the  lines ;  and 
then  to  hear  him  laugh  when  he  turned  the  vegetable 
snowdrift  out  into  the  wooden  butter-bowl  a  little  too 
soon,  and  a  last  shot  or  two  blew  the  fluffy  kernels  all 
over  the  room — all  this  was  the  very  acme  of  success  in 


*"By  Golding's  bow-key"  was  a  very  solemn  objurgation. 
It  could  be  used  by  professors  of  religion,  but  under  great  prov 
ocation  only.  It  harks  back  to  the  time  when  every  man  who 
had  oxen  named  them  Buck  and  Golding,  and  the  bow-key  held 
the  yoke  on.  Ah,  those  far-off,  Arcadian  days,  and  the  blessing 
of  knowing  those  who  lived  in  them ! — G.  v.  d.  M. 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  305 

making  a  pleasant  evening.    All  the  time  I  was  thinking 
of  Magnus's  prediction. 

"County  officer!"  I  snorted.    "Banker!  Me!" 

"Ay  dank  so,"  said  Magnus.  "Or  maybe  lawyers  and 
yudges." 

"Any  girl  I  would  have,"  I  said,  "wouldn't  have  me; 
and  any  girl  that  would  have  me,  the  devil  wouldn't 
have!" 

"Anybody  else  say  dat  to  me,  I  lick  him,"  he  stated. 

"There  ain't  any  farm  girls  out  in  this  prairie,"  I 
said ;  "and  no  town  girl  would  come  in  here,"  and  I  spread 
my  hands  out  to  show  that  I  thought  my  house  the  worst 
place  in  the  world,  though  I  was  really  a  little  proud  of 
it — for  wasn't  it  mine  ?  made  with  my  own  hands,  mainly  ? 

"Girls  come  where  dey  want  to  come,"  said  he,  "in 
spite  of— 

"Of  hell  and  high  water,"  I  supplied,  as  he  hesitated. 

"So!"  he  answered,  adopting  my  words,  and  after 
ward  using  them  at  a  church  social  with  some  effect.  "In 
spite  of  Hell  Slew  and  high  water.  An'  if  dey  bane  too 
soft  in  de  hand  to  come,  I  bring  you  out  a  fine  farm  girl 
from  Norvay." 

3 

This  idea  furnished  us  meat  for  much  joking,  and 
then  it  grew  almost  earnest,  as  jokes  will.  We  finally 
settled  down  to  a  cousin  of  his,  Christina  Quale.  And 
whenever  I  bought  anything  for  the  house,  which  I  did 
from  time  to  time  as  I  got  money,  we  discussed  the  matter 
as  to  whether  or  not  Christina  would  like  it.  The  first 
thing  I  bought  was  a  fine  silver-plated  castor,  with  six 
bottles  in  it,  to  put  in  the  middle  of  the  table  so  that  it 


306  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

could  be  turned  around  as  the  company  helped  them 
selves  to  salt,  mustard,  vinegar,  red  or  black  pepper ;  and 
the  sixth  thing  I  never  could  figure  out  until  Grandma 
Thorndyke  told  me  it  was  oil.  A  castor  was  a  sort  of 
title  of  nobility,  and  this  one  always  lifted  me  in  the  opin 
ions  of  every  one  that  sat  down  at  my  table.  Magnus  said 
he  was  sure  Christina  would  be  tickled  yust  plumb  to 
death  with  it.  Ah !  Christina  was  a  wonderful  legal  fic 
tion,  as  N.  V.  calls  it.  How  many  times  Virginia's  ears 
must  have  hurried  as  we  tenderly  discussed  the  poor  yel 
low-haired  peasant  girl  far  off  there  by  the  foaming 
fjords. 

One  trouble  with  all  of  us  Vandemark  Township 
settlers  was  that  we  had  no  money.  I  had  long  since 
stopped  going  to  church  or  to  see  anybody,  because  I  was 
so  beggarly-looking.  Going  away  from  our  farms  to  earn 
wages  put  back  the  development  of  the  farms,  and  made 
the  job  of  getting  started  so  much  slower.  It  is  so  to-day 
in  the  new  parts  of  the  country,  and  something  ought  to 
be  done  about  it.  With  us  it  was  hard  to  get  work,  even 
when  we  were  forced  to  look  for  it.  I  hated  to  work  for 
Buck  Gowdy,  because  there  was  that  thing  between  us, 
whether  he  knew  it  or  not ;  but  when  Magnus  came  to 
me  one  day  after  we  had  got  our  oats  sowed,  and  said  that 
Mr.  Gowdy  wanted  hands,  I  decided  that  I  would  go 
over  with  Magnus  and  work  out  a  while. 

4 

I  was  astonished,  after  we  had  walked  the  nine  miles 
between  the  edge  of  the  Gowdy  tract  and  the  headquar 
ters,  to  see  how  much  he  had  done.  There  were  square 
miles  of  land  under  plow,  and  the  yards,  barns,  granaries 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  307 

and  houses  looked  almost  as  much  like  a  town  as  Mon 
terey  Centre.  We  went  straight  to  Gowdy's  office.  His 
overseer  was  talking  with  us,  when  Gowdy  came  in. 

"Hello,  Thorkelson,"  said  he ;  "you're  quite  a  stranger. 
Haven't  seen  you  for  a  week." 

Magnus  stole  a  look  at  me  and  blushed  so  that  his  face 
was  as  red  as  his  hair.  I  was  taken  aback  by  this  for  he 
had  never  said  a  word  to  me  about  the  frequent  visits  to 
the  Gowdy  ranch  which  Buck's  talk  seemed  to  show  had 
taken  place.  What  had  he  been  coming  over  for?  I  won 
dered,  as  I  heard  Gowdy  greeting  me. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  he.  "What 
can  I  do  for  you-all  ?" 

"We  heard  you  wanted  a  couple  of  hands,"  said  I, 
"and  we  thought " 

"I  need  a  couple  of  hundred,"  said  he.  "Put  'em  to 
work,  Mobley,"  turning  to  the  overseer ;  and  then  he  went 
off  into  a  lot  of  questions  and  orders  about  the  work, 
after  which  he  jumped  into  the  buckboard  buggy,  in 
which  Pinck  Johnson  sat  with  the  whip  in  his  hands,  and 
they  went  off  at  a  keen  run,  with  Pinck  urging  the  team 
to  a  faster  pace,  and  Gowdy  holding  to  the  seat  as  they 
went  careering  along  like  the  wind. 

We  lived  in  a  great  barracks  with  his  other  men,  and 
ate  our  meals  in  a  long  room  like  a  company  of  soldiers. 
It  was  a  most  interesting  business  experiment  which  he 
was  trying ;  and  he  was  going  behind  every  day.  Where 
land  is  free  nobody  will  work  for  any  one  else  for  less 
than  he  can  make  working  for  himself;  and  land  was 
pretty  nearly  free  in  Monterey  County  then.  All  a  man 
needed  was  a  team,  and  he  could  get  tools  on  credit ;  and 
I  know  plenty  of  cases  of  people  breaking  speculator's 


308  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

land  and  working  it  for  years  without  paying  rent  or 
being  molested.  The  rent  wasn't  worth  quarreling  about. 
But  Gowdy  couldn't  get,  on  the  average,  as  much  out  of 
his  hired  men  in  the  way  of  work  as  they  would  do  for 
themselves. 

Most  of  the  aristocrats  who  came  early  to  Iowa  to 
build  up  estates,  lost  everything  they  had,  and  became 
poor;  for  they  did  not  work  with  their  own  hands,  and 
the  work  of  others'  hands  was  inefficient  and  cost,  any 
how,  as  much  as  it  produced  or  more.  Gowdy  would  have 
gone  broke  long  before  the  cheap  land  was  gone,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  the  money  he  got  from  Kentucky.  The  poor 
men  like  me,  the  peasants  from  Europe  like  Magnus — 
we  were  the  ones  who  made  good,  while  the  gentility 
went  bankrupt. 

After  a  few  years  the  land  began  to  take  on  what  the 
economists  call  "unearned  increment,"  or  community 
value,  and  the  Gowdy  lands  began  the  work  which  fi 
nally  made  him  a  millionaire ;  but  it  was  not  his  work.  It 
was  mine,  and  Magnus  Thorkelson's,  and  the  work  of  the 
neighbors  generally,  on  the  farms  and  in  the  towns.  It 
was  the  railroads  and  school  and  churches.  He  would 
have  made  property  faster  to  let  his  land  lie  bare  until 
in  the  'seventies.  I  could  see  that  his  labor  was  bringing 
him  a  loss,  every  day's  work  of  it ;  and  at  breakfast  I  was 
studying  out  ways  to  organize  it  better, — when  a  small 
hand  pushed  a  cup  of  coffee  past  my  cheek,  and  gave  my 
nose  a  little  pinch  as  it  was  drawn  back.  I  looked  up, 
and  there  was  Rowena,  waiting  on  our  table ! 

"Hello,  Jake !"  said  she.    "I  heared  you  was  dead." 

"Hello,  Rowena,"  I  answered.  "I'm  just  breathin' 
my  last!" 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  309 

All  the  hands  began  yelling  at  us. 

"No  sparkin'  here!"' 

"None  o'  them  love  pinches,  Rowena !" 

"I  swan  to  man  if  that  Dutchman  ain't  cuttin'  us  all 
out!" 

"Quit  courtin'  an'  pass  them  molasses,  sweetness !" 

"Mo'  po'k  an'  less  honey,  thar !" — this  from  a  Missou- 
rian. 

"Magnus,  your  pardner's  cuttin'  you  out !" 

I  do  not  need  to  say  that  all  this  hectoring  from  a  lot 
of  men  who  were  most  of  them  strangers,  almost  put  me 
under  the  table ;  but  Rowena,  tossing  her  head,  sent  them 
back  their  change,  with  smiles  for  everybody.  She  was  as 
pretty  a  twenty-year-old  lass  as  you  would  see  in  a  day's 
travel.  No  longer  was  she  the  ragged  waif  to  whom  I 
had  given  the  dress  pattern  back  toward  Dubuque.  She 
was  rosy,  she  was  plump,  her  new  calico  dress  was  as 
pretty  as  it  could  be,  and  her  brown  skin  and  browner 
hair  made  with  her  dark  eyes  a  study  in  brown  and  pink, 
as  the  artists  say. 

It  was  two  or  three  days  before  I  had  a  chance  to  talk 
with  her.  She  had  changed  a  good  deal,  I  sensed,  as  she 
told  me  all  about  her  folks.  Old  Man  Fewkes  was  work 
ing  in  the  vegetable  garden.  Celebrate  was  running  a 
team.  Surajah  was  working  on  the  machinery.  Ma 
Fewkes  was  keeping  house  for  the  family  in  a  little  cot 
tage  in  the  corner  of  the  garden.  I  went  over  and  had  a 
talk  with  them.  Ma  Fewkes,  with  her  shoulder-blades 
almost  touching,  assured  me  that  they  were  in  clover. 

"I  feel  sure,"  said  she,  "that  Celebrate  Fourth  will 
soon  git  something  better  to  do  than  make  a  hand  in  the 
field.  He  has  idees  of  makin'  all  kinds  of  money,  if  he 


310  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

could  git  Mr.  Gowdy  to  lis'en  to  him.  But  Surrager 
Dowler  is  right  where  he  orto  be.  He  has  got  a  patent 
corn-planter  all  worked  out,  and  I  guess  Mr.  Gowdy'll 
help  him  make  and  sell  it.  Mr.  Gowdy  is  awful  good  to 
us — ain't  he,  Rowena." 

Rowena  busied  herself  with  her  work ;  and  when  Mrs. 
Fewkes  repeated  her  appeal,  the  girl  looked  out  of  the 
window  and  paused  a  long  time  before  she  answered. 

"Good  enough,"  she  finally  said.  "But  I  guess  he 
ain't  strainin'  himself  any  to  make  something  of  us." 

There  was  something  strange  and  covered  up  in  what 
she  said,  and  in  the  way  she  said  it.  She  shot  a  quick 
glance  at  me,  and  then  looked  down  at  her  work  again. 

"Well,  Rowena  Fewkes !"  exclaimed  her  mother,  with 
her  hands  thrown  up  as  if  in  astonishment  or  protest.  "In 
all  my  born  days,  I  never  expected  to  hear  a  child  of 
mine " 

Old  Man  Fewkes  came  in  just  then,  and  cut  into  the 
talk  by  his  surprised  exclamation  at  seeing  me  there.  He 
had  supposed  that  I  had  gone  out  of  his  ken  forever.  He 
had  thought  that  one  winter  in  this  climate  would  be  all 
that  a  young  man  like  me,  free  as  I  was  to  go  and  come 
as  I  pleased,  would  stand.  As  he  spoke  about  my  being 
free,  he  looked  at  his  wife  and  sighed,  combing  his  whis 
kers  with  his  skinny  bird's  claws,  and  showing  the  biggest 
freckles  on  the  backs  of  his  hands  that  I  think  I  ever 
saw.  He  was  still  more  stooped  and  frail-looking  than 
when  I  saw  him  last ;  and  when  I  told  him  I  had  settled 
down  for  life  on  my  farm,  I  could  see  that  I  had  lost 
caste  with  him.  He  was  pining  for  the  open  road. 

"Negosha,"  he  said,  "is  the  place  for  a  young  man. 
You  can  be  a  baron  out  there  with  ten  thousan'  head  < 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  311 

cattle.  But  the  place  for  me  is  Texas.  Trees  is  in  con 
stant  varder !" 

"But,"  said  Ma  Fewkes,  repeating  her  speech  of  three 
years  ago,  "it's  so  fur,  Fewkes !" 

"Fur!"  he  scornfully  shouted,  just  as  he  had  before. 
"Fur !"  this  time  letting  his  voice  fall  in  contempt  for  the 
distance,  for  any  one  that  spoke  of  the  distance,  and  for 
things  in  general  in  Iowa.  "Why,  Lord-heavens,  womern, 
it  hain't  more'n  fifteen  hundred  mile !" 

"Fewkes,"  she  retorted,  drawing  her  shoulders  back 
almost  as  far  as  she  had  had  them  forward  a  moment 
before,  "I've  been  drailed  around  the  country,  fifteen  hun 
dred  miles  here,  and  fifteen  hundred  miles  there,  with  old 
Tom  takin'  mad  fits  every  little  whip-stitch,  about  as  much 
as  I'm  a-going  to !" 

"I  don't,"  said  Rowena,  "see  why  you've  got  so  sot  on 
goin'  into  your  hole  here,  an'  pullin'  the  hole  in  after  you. 
You  hook  up  ol'  Tom,  pa,  an'  me  an'  you'll  go  to  Texas. 
I'll  start  to-morrow  morning,  pa !" 

"I  never  seen  sich  a  girl,"  said  her  mother ;  "to  talk  of 
movin'  when  prospects  is  as  good  f'r  you  as  they  be  now !" 

"Wai,  le's  stop  jourin'  at  each  other,"  said  Rowena, 
hastily,  as  if  to  change  the  subject.  "It  ain't  the  way  to 
treat  company." 

I  discovered  that  Rowena  was  about  to  change  her 
situation  in  the  Blue-grass  Manor  establishment.  She 
was  going  into  "the  Big  House"  to  work  under  Mrs. 
Mobley,  the  wife  of  the  superintendent,  or  as  we  called 
him,  the  overseer. 

"Well,  that'll  be  nice,"  said  I. 

"I  don't  want  to,"  she  said.  "I  like  to  wait  on  table 
better." 


312  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Then  why  do  you  change?"  said  I. 

"Mr.  Gowdy ,"  began  Ma  Fewkes,  but  was  inter 
rupted  by  her  daughter,  who  talked  on  until  her  mother 
was  switched  off  from  her  explanation. 

"I  wun't  work  with  niggers!"  said  Rowena.  "That 
Pinck  has  brought  a  yellow  girl  here  from  Dubuque,  and 
she's  goin'  to  wait  on  the  table  as  she  did  in  Dubuque. 
They  claim  they  was  married  the  last  time  he  was  back 
there,  an'  he  brought  her  here.  I  wun't  work  with  her. 

I  wun't  demean  myself  into  a  black  slave .  But  tell 

me,  Jake,"  coming  over  and  sitting  by  me,  "how  you're 
gittin'  along.  Off  here  we  don't  hear  no  news  from  folks 
over  to  the  Centre  at  all.  We  go  to  the  new  railroad,  an' 
never  see  any  one  from  over  there ." 

"Exceptin'  Magnus,"  said  Ma  Fewkes. 

"You  ain't  married,  yet,  be  you  ?"  Rowena  asked. 

"I  should  say  not!    Me  married!" 

We  sat  then  for  quite  a  while  without  saying  anything. 
Rowena  sat  smoothing  out  a  calico  apron  she  had  on. 
Finally  she  said :  "Am  I  wearin'  anything  you  ever  seen 
before,  Jake?" 

Looking  her  over  carefully  I  saw  nothing  I  could 
remember.  I  told  her  so  at  last,  and  said  she  was  dressed 
awful  nice  now  and  looked  lots  better  than  I  had  ever  seen 
her  looking.  My  own  rags  were  sorely  on  my  mind  just 
then. 

"This  apern,"  said  she,  spreading  it  out  for  me  to  see, 
"is  the  back  breadth  of  that  dress  you  give  me  back  along 
the  road.  I'm  goin'  to  keep  it  always.  I  hain't  goin'  to 
wear  it  ever  only  when  you  come  to  see  me !" 

This  was  getting  embarrassing;  but  her  next  remark 
made  it  even  more  so. 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  313 

"How  old  be  you,  Jake  ?"  she  asked. 

"I'll  be  twenty,"  said  I,  "the  twenty-seventh  day  of 
next  July/' 

"We're  jest  of  an  age,"  she  ventured — and  after  a  long 
pause,  "I  should  think  it  would  be  awful  hard  work  to 
keep  the  house  and  do  your  work  ou'-doors." 

I  told  her  that  it  was,  and  spread  the  grief  on  very 
thick,  thinking  all  the  time  of  the  very  precious  way  in 
which  I  hoped  sometime  to  end  my  loneliness,  and  give 
myself  a  house  companion :  in  the  very  back  of  my  head 
even  going  over  the  plans  I  had  made  for  an  "upright" 
to  the  house,  with  a  bedroom,  a  spare  room,  a  dining-room 
and  a  sitting-room  in  it. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "for  a  smart,  nice-lookin'  young  man 
like  you,  it's  your  own  fault " 

5 

And  then  there  was  a  tap  on  the  door.  Rowena 
started,  turned  toward  the  door,  made  as  if  to  get  up  to 
open  it,  and  then  sat  down  again,  her  face  first  flushed 
and  then  pale.  Her  mother  opened  the  door,  and  there 
stood  Buckner  Gowdy.  He  came  in,  with  his  easy 
politeness  and  sat  down  among  us  like  an  old  friend. 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  company,"  said  he;  "but  I 
now  remember  that  Mr.  Vandemark  is  an  old  friend." 

He  always  called  me  Mr.  Vandemark,  because,  I 
guess,  I  owned  seven  hundred  and  twenty  acres  of  land, 
and  was  not  all  mortgaged  up.  Virginia  told  me  after 
ward,  that  where  they  came  from  people  who  owned  so 
much  land  were  the  quality,  and  were  treated  more 
respectfully  than  the  poor  whites. 


314  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Old  Man  Fewkes,  "Jake  *s  the  onliest 
real  old  friend  we  got  hereabouts." 

Gowdy  took  me  into  the  conversation,  but  he  sat  where 
he  could  look  at  Rtowena.  He  seemed  to  be  carrying  on 
a  silent  conversation  with  her  with  his  eyes,  while  he 
talked  to  me,  looking  into  my  eyes  a  good  deal  too,  and 
stooping  toward  me  in  that  intimate,  confidential  way  of 
his.  When  I  told  him  that  I  thought  he  was  not  getting 
as  much  done  as  he  ought  to  with  all  the  hands  he  had,  he 
said  nobody  knew  it  better  than  he;  but  could  I  suggest 
any  remedy?  Now  on  the  canal,  we  had  to  organize  our 
work,  and  I  had  seen  a  lot  of  public  labor  done  between 
Albany  and  Buffalo;  so  I  had  my  ideas  as  to  people's 
getting  in  one  another's  way.  I  told  him  that  his  men 
were  working  in  too  large  gangs,  as  I  looked  at  it.  Where 
he  had  twenty  breaking-teams  following  one  another,  if 
one  broke  his  plow,  or  ran  on  a  boulder  and  had  to  file  it, 
the  whole  gang  had  to  stop  for  him,  or  run  around  him 
and  make  a  balk  in  the  work.  I  thought  it  would  be  bet 
ter  to  have  not  more  than  two  or  three  breaking  on  the 
same  "land,"  and  then  they  would  not  be  so  much  in  one 
another's  way,  and  wouldn't  have  so  good  an  excuse  for 
stopping  and  having  jumping  matches  and  boxing  bouts 
and  story-tellings.  Then  their  work  could  be  compared, 
they  could  be  made  to  work  against  one  another  in  a  kind 
of  competition,  and  the  bad  ones  could  be  weeded  out.  It 
would  be  the  same  with  corn-plowing,  and  some  other 
work. 

"There's  sense  in  that,  sir,"  he  said,  after  thinking  it 
over.  "You  see,  Mr.  Vandemark,  my  days  of  honest 
industry  are  of  very  recent  date.  Thank  you  for  the  sug 
gestion,  sir." 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  315 

I  got  up  to  leave.  Rowena's  father  was  pulling  off 
his  boots,  which  with  us  then,  was  the  signal  that  he  was 
going  to  bed.  If  I  stayed  after  that  alone  with  Rowena, 
it  was  a  sign  that  we  were  to  "sit  up" — and  that  was 
courtship.  I  was  slowly  getting  it  through  my  wool  that 
it  looked  as  if  Buckner  Gowdy  and  Rowena  were  going 
to  sit  up,  when  I  heard  her  giving  me  back  my  good  eve 
ning,  and  at  the  same  time,  behind  his  back,  motioning  me 
to  my  chair,  and  shaking  her  head.  And  while  I  was 
backing  and  filling,  the  door  opened  and  a  woman 
appeared  on  the  step. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Mobley,"  said  Buck,  "anything  for  me?" 

She  was  very  nicely  dressed  for  a  woman  busy  about 
her  own  home,  but  the  thing  that  I  remembered  was  her 
pallor.  Her  hair  was  light  brown  and  curled  about  her 
forehead,  and  her  eyes  were  very  blue,  like  china.  And 
there  was  a  quiver  in  her  like  that  which  you  see  in  the 
little  quaking-asps  in  the  slews — something  pitiful,  and 
sort  of  forsaken.  Her  face  was  not  so  fresh  as  it  had 
been  a  few  years  before,  and  on  her  cheeks  were  little  red 
spots,  like  those  you  see  in  the  cheeks  of  people  with  con 
sumption — or  a  pot  of  face-paint.  She  was  tall  and 
strong-looking,  and  somewhat  portly,  and  quite  master 
ful  in  her  ways  as  a  general  rule ;  but  that  night  she 
seemed  to  be  in  a  sort  of  pleading  mood,  not  a  bit  like  her 
self  when  dealing  with  ordinary  people.  She  was  not  or 
dinary,  as  could  be  sensed  by  even  an  ignorant  bumpkin 
like  me.  She  had  more  education  than  most,  and  had 
been  taught  better  manners  and  brought  up  with  more 
style. 

"Air.  Mobley  requested  me  to  say,"  she  said,  her  voice 
low  and  quivery,  bowing  to  all  of  us  in  a  very  polite  and 


316  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

elegant  way,  "that  he  has  something  of  importance  to  say 
to  you,  Mr.  Buckner." 

"I'm  greatly  obliged  to  you,  Miss  Flora,"  said  he. 
"Let  me  go  to  him  with  you.  Good  evening,  Rowena. 
Good  evening,  Mr.  Vandemark.  I  shall  certainly  think 
over  what  you  have  been  so  kind  as  to  suggest." 

He  bowed  to  Rowena,  nodded  to  me,  and  we  all  three 
left  together.  As  we  separated  I  heard  him  talking  to 
her  in  what  in  any  other  man  I  should  have  called  a  lov 
ing  tone ;  but  there  was  a  sort  of  warm  note  in  the  way 
he  spoke  to  me,  too ;  and  still  more  of  that  vital  vibration 
I  have  mentioned  before,  when  he  spoke  to  Rowena.  But 
he  did  not  take  my  arm,  as  he  did  that  of  the  imposing 
"Miss  Flora"  as  he  called  Mrs.  Mobley,  to  whom  he  was 
"Mr.  Buckner."  I  could  see  them  walking  very,  very 
close  together,  even  in  the  darkness. 


When  I  found  that  Mr.  Mobley  was  over  at  the  bar 
racks,  and  had  been  there  playing  euchre  with  the  boys 
since  supper,  I  wondered.  I  wondered  why  Mrs.  Mobley 
had  come  with  an  excuse  to  get  Mr.  Gowdy  away  from 
me — or  after  a  couple  of  weeks'  thinking,  was  it  from 
Rowena?  Yet  Mr.  Gowdy  did  see  Mr.  Mobley  that  eve 
ning;  for  the  next  morning  Mobley  put  me  over  a  gang 
of  eight  breaking-teams,  "To  handle  the  way  you 
told  Mr.  Gowdy  last  night,"  he  said. 

He  was  a  tall,  limber-jointed,  whipped-looking  man 
with  a  red  nose  and  a  long  stringy  mustache,  and  always 
wore  his  vest  open  clear  down  to  the  lower  button  which 
was  fastened,  and  thus  his  whole  waistcoat  was  thrown 
open  so  as  to  show  a  tobacco-stained  shirt  bosom.  The 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  3*7 

Missourian  whom  I  had  noticed  at  table  said  that  this 
was  done  so  that  the  wearer  of  the  vest  could  reach  his 
dirk  handily.  But  Mobley  was  the  last  man  I  should 
have  suspected  of  carrying  a  dirk,  or  if  he  did  packing 
the  gumption  to  use  it. 

I  made  good  with  my  gang,  and  did  a  third  more  than 
any  other  eight  teams  on  the  place.  Before  I  went  away, 
Gowdy  talked  around  as  if  he  wanted  me  for  overseer ; 
but  I  couldn't  decide  without  studying  a  long  time,  to 
take  a  step  so  far  from  what  I  had  been  thinking  of,  and 
he  dropped  the  subject.  I  did  not  like  the  way  things 
were  going  there.  The  men  were  out  of  control.  They 
despised  Mobley,  and  said  sly  things  about  his  using  his 
wife  to  keep  him  in  a  job.  One  day  I  told  Magnus  Thor- 
kelson  about  Mrs.  Mobley's  coming  and  taking  Gowdy 
away  from  the  little  cabin  of  the  Fewkes  family. 

"She  do  dat,"  said  he,  "a  dozen  times  ven  Ay  bane 
dar.  She  alvays  bane  chasing  Buck  Gowdy.'* 

"Well,"  I  said,  "who  be  you  chasing,  coming  over 
here  a  dozen  times  when  I  didn't  know  it?  That's  why 
you  bought  that  mustang  pony,  eh  ?" 

"I  yust  go  over,"  said  he,  squirming,  "  to  help  Sura j ah 
fix  up  his  machines — his  inwentions.  Sometimes  I  take 
over  de  wyolin  to  play  for  Rowena.  Dat  bane  all,  Yake." 

When  we  went  home,  I  with  money  enough  for  some 
new  clothes,  with  what  I  had  by  me,  we  caught  a  ride 
with  one  of  Judge  Stone's  teams  to  a  point  two-thirds  of 
the  way  to  Monterey  Centre,  and  came  into  our  own 
places  from  the  south.  We  were  both  glad  to  see  long 
black  streaks  of  new  breaking  in  the  section  of  which  my 
eighty  was  a  part,  and  two  new  shanties  belonging  to 
new  neighbors.  This  would  bring  cultivated  land  up  to 


318  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

my  south  line,  and  I  afterward  found  out,  take  the  whole 
half  of  the  section  into  the  new  farms.  The  Zenas  Smith 
family  had  moved  on  to  the  southwest  quarter,  and  the 
J.  P.  Roebuck  family  on  the  southeast. 

The  Smiths  and  Roebucks  still  live  in  the  township — 
as  good  neighbors  as  a  man  need  ask  for;  except  that  I 
never  could  agree  with  Zenas  Smith  about  line  fences, 
when  the  time  came  for  them.  Once  we  almost  came  to 
the  spite-fence  stage ;  but  our  children  were  such  friends 
that  they  kept  us  from  that  disgrace.  But  Mrs.  Smith 
was  as  good  a  woman  in  sickness  as  I  ever  saw. 

George  Story  was  working  for  the  Smiths,  and  was 
almost  one  of  the  family.  He  finally  took  the  north 
east  quarter  of  the  section,  and  lives  there  yet.  David 
Roebuck,  J.  P/s  son,  when  he  came  of  age  acquired 
the  eighty  next  to  me,  and  thus  completed  the  settle 
ment  of  the  section.  Most  of  the  Roebuck  girls  and 
boys  became  school-teachers,  and  they  had  the  biggest 
mail  of  anybody  in  the  neighborhood.  I  never  saw  Dave 
Roebuck  spelled  down  but  once,  and  that  was  by  his  sister 
Theodosia,  called  "Dose"  for  short. 

We  went  to  both  houses  and  called  as  we  went  home, 
so  as  to  begin  neighboring  with  them.  Magnus  stopped 
at  his  own  place,  and  I  went  on,  wondering  if  the  Frost 
boy  I  had  engaged  to  look  out  for  my  stock  while  I  was 
gone  had  been  true  to  his  trust.  I  saw  that  there  had 
been  a  lot  of  redding  up  done ;  and  as  I  came  around  the 
corner  of  the  house  I  heard  sounds  within  as  of  some  one 
at  the  housework.  The  door  was  open,  and  as  I  peeped 
in,  there,  of  all  people,  was  Grandma  Thorndyke,  putting 
the  last  touches  to  a  general  house-cleaning. 

The  floor  was  newlv  scrubbed,  the  dishes  set  away  in 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  319 

order,  and  all  clean.  The  churn  was  always  clean  in 
wardly,  but  she  had  scoured  it  on  the  outside.  There 
was  a  geranium  in  bloom  in  the  window,  which  was  as 
clear  as  glass  could  be  made.  The  bed  was  made  up  on 
a  different  plan  from  mine,  and  the  place  where  I  hung 
my  clothes  had  a  flowered  cotton  curtain  in  front  of  it, 
run  on  cords.  It  looked  very  beautiful  to  me;  and  my 
pride  in  it  rose  as  I  gazed  upon  it.  Grandma  Thorn- 
dyke  had  not  heard  me  coming,  and  £ave  way  to  her 
feelings  as  she  looked  at  her  handiwork  in  her  manner 
of  talking  to  herself. 

"That's  more  like  a  human  habitation!"  she  ejacu 
lated,  standing  with  her  hands  on  her  hips.  "I  snum !  It 
looked  like  a  hooraw's  nest !" 

"It  looks  a  lot  better,"  I  agreed. 

She  was  startled  at  seeing  me,  for  she  expected  to  get 
away,  with  Henderson  L.  Burns  as  he  came  back  from  his 
shooting  of  golden  plover,  all  unknown  to  me.  But  we 
had  quite  a  visit  all  by  ourselves.  She  said  quite  point 
edly,  that  somebody  had  been  keeping  her  family  in  milk 
and  butter  and  vegetables  and  chickens  and  eggs  all  win 
ter,  and  she  was  doing  a  mighty  little  in  repayment.  Her 
eyes  were  full  of  tears  as  she  said  this. 

"He  who  gives  to  the  poor,"  said  she,  "lends  to  the 
Lord ;  and  I  don't  know  any  place  where  the  Lord's  credit 
has  been  lower  than  in  Monterey  Centre  for  the  past  win 
ter.  Now  le'me  show  you  where  things  are,  Jacob." 

I  got  all  the  news  of  the  town  from  her.  Several 
people  had  moved  in ;  but  others  had  gone  back  east  to 
live  with  their  own  or  their  wives'  folks.  Elder  Thorn- 
dyke,  encouraged  by  the  favor  of  "their  two  rich  men," 
had  laid  plans  for  building  a  church,  and  she  believed 


320  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

their  fellowship  would  be  blessed  with  greater  growth  if 
they  had  a  consecrated  building  instead  of  the  hall  where 
the  secret  societies  met.  On  asking  who  their  two  richest 
men  were  she  mentioned  Governor  Wade,  of  course,  and 
Mr.  Gowdy. 

"Mr.  Gowdy,"  she  ventured,  "is  in  a  very  hopeful 
frame  of  mind.  He  is,  I  fervently  hope  and  believe,  under 
conviction  of  sin.  We  pray  for  him  without  ceasing.  He 
would  be  a  tower  of  strength,  with  his  ability  and  his 
wealth,  if  he  should,  under  God,  turn  to  the  right  and  seek 
salvation.  If  you  and  he  could  both  come  into  the  fold, 
Jacob,  it  would  be  a  wonderful  thing  for  the  elder  and 
me." 

"I  guess  I'd  ruther  come  in  alone !"  I  said. 

"You  mustn't  be  uncharitable,"  said  she.  "Mr.  Gowdy 
is  still  hopeful  of  getting  that  property  for  Virginia 
Royall.  He  is  working  on  that  all  the  time.  He  came  to 
get  her  signature  to  a  paper  this  week.  He  is  a  changed 
man,  Jacob — a  changed  man." 

I  can't  tell  how  thunderstruck  I  was  by  this  bit  of 
news.  Somehow,  I  could  not  see  Buck  Gowdy  as  a  mem 
ber  of  the  congregation  of  the  saints — I  had  seen  too  much 
of  him  lately :  and  yet,  I  could  not  now  remember  any  of 
the  old  hardness  he  had  shown  in  every  action  back  along 
the  Ridge  Road  in  1855.  But  Virginia  must  have 
changed  toward  him,  or  she  would  not  have  allowed  him 
to  approach  her  with  any  kind  of  paper,  not  even  a  patent 
of  nobility. 

But  I  rallied  from  my  daze  and  took  Grandma  Thorn- 
dyke  to  see  my  live  stock — birds  and  beasts.  I  discovered 
that  she  had  been  a  farmer's  daughter  in  New  England, 
and  I  began  to  suspect  that  it  relieved  her  to  drop  into 


AT  BLUE-GRASS  MANOR  321 

New  England  farm  talk,  like  "I  snum !"  and  "Hooraw's 
nest.'*  I  never  saw  a  hooraw's  nest,  but  she  seemed  to 
think  it  a  very  disorderly  place. 

"This  ain't  the  last  time,  Jacob,"  said  she,  as  she 
climbed  into  Jim  Boyd's  buggy  that  Henderson  L.  had 
borrowed.  "You  may  expect  to  find  your  house  red  up 
any  time  when  I  can  get  a  ride  out." 

I  was  in  a  daze  for  some  time  trying  to  study  out 
developments.  Buck  Gowdy  and  Mrs.  Mobley;  Rowena 
and  Magnus  Thorkelson ;  Gowdy's  calls  on  Rowena,  or  at 
least  at  her  home ;  Rowena's  going  to  live  in  his  house  as 
a  hired  girl;  her  warmth  to  me;  her  nervousness,  or 
fright,  at  Gowdy ;  Gowdy's  religious  tendency  in  the 
midst  of  his  entanglements  with  the  fair  sex ;  his  seeming 
reconciliation  with  Virginia ;  his  pulling  of  the  wool  over 

the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Thorndyke,  and  probably  the  elder's , 

Out  of  this  maze  I  came  to  a  sudden  resolution.  I  would 
go  to  Waterloo  and  get  me  a  new  outfit  of  clothes,  even 
to  gloves  and  a  pair  of  "fine  boots." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL — AND  ACCEPT 

DOGS  and  cats  get  more  credit,  I  feel  sure,  for  being 
animals  of  fine  feeling  and  intelligence,  than  in  jus 
tice  they  are  entitled  to ;  because  they  have  so  many  ways 
of  showing  forth  what  they  feel.  A  dog  can  growl  or 
bark  in  several  ways,  and  show  his  teeth  in  at  least  two, 
to  tell  how  he  feels.  He  can  wag  his  tail,  or  let  it  droop, 
or  curl  it  over  his  back,  or  stick  it  straight  out  like  a  flag, 
or  hold  it  in  a  bowed  shape  with  the  curve  upward,  and 
frisk  about,  and  run  in  circles,  or  sit  up  silently  or  with 
howls ;  or  stand  with  one  foot  lifted ;  or  cock  his  head  on 
one  side:  and  as  for  his  eyes  and  his  ears,  he  can  almost 
talk  with  them. 

As  for  a  cat,  she  has  no  such  rich  language  as  a 
dog;  but  see  what  she  can  do:  purring,  rubbing  against 
things,  arching  her  back,  glaring  out  of  her  eyes,  setting 
her  hair  on  end,  swelling  out  her  tail,  sticking  out  her 
claws  and  scratching  at  posts,  sneaking  along  as  if  ready 
to  pounce,  pouncing  either  in  earnest  or  in  fun,  mewing 
in  many  voices,  catching  at  things  with  nails  drawn  back 
or  just  a  little  protruded,  or  drawing  the  blood  with 
them,  laying  back  her  ears,  looking  up  pleadingly  and 
asking  for  milk — why  a  cat  can  say  almost  anything 
she  wants  to  say. 

Now  contrast  these  domestic  animals  with  a  much 
322 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  323 

more  necessary  and  useful  one,  the  cow.  Any  stockman 
knows  that  a  cow  is  a  beast  of  very  high  nervous  organ 
ization,  but  she  has  no  very  large  number  of  ways  of 
telling  us  how  she  feels :  just  a  few  tones  to  her  lowing, 
a  few  changes  of  expression  to  her  eye,  a  small  number 
of  shades  of  uneasiness,  a  little  manner  with  her  eyes, 
showing  the  whites  when  troubled  or  letting  the  lids 
droop  in  satisfaction — these  things  exhausted,  and  poor 
bossy's  tale  is  told.  You  can  get  nothing  more  out  of  her, 
except  in  some  spasm  of  madness.  She  is  driven  to 
extremes  by  her  dumbness. 

I  am  brought  to  this  sermon  by  two  things :  what  hap 
pened  to  me  when  Rowena  Fewkes  came  over  to  see  me 
in  the  early  summer  of  1859,  a  year  almost  to  a  day  from 
the  time  when  Magnus  and  I  left  Blue-grass  Manor  after 
our  spell  of  work  there :  and  what  our  best  cow,  Spot,  did 
yesterday. 

We  were  trying  to  lead  Spot  behind  a  wagon, 
and  'lie  did  not  like  it.  She  had  no  way  of  telling  us  how 
much  she  hated  it,  and  how  panicky  she  was,  as  a  dog  or 
a  cat  could  have  done ;  and  so  she  just  hung  back  and 
acted  dumb  and  stubborn  for  a  minute  or  two,  and  then 
she  gave  an  awful  bellow,  ran  against  the  wagon  as  if 
she  wanted  to  upset  it,  and  when  she  found  she  could  not 
affect  it,  in  as  pathetic  a  despair  and  mental  agony  as  any 
man  ever  felt  who  has  killed  himself,  she  thrust  one  horn 
into  the  ground,  broke  it  off  flush  with  her  head,  and 
threw  herself  down  with  her  neck  doubled  under  her 
shoulder,  as  if  trying  to  commit  suicide,  as  I  verily 
believe  she  was.  And  yet  dogs  and  cats  get  credit  for 
being  creatures  of  finer  feelings  than  cows,  merely 
because  cows  have  no  tricks  of  barking,  purring,  and  the 
like. 


324  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

It  is  the  same  as  between  other  people  and  a  Dutch 
man.  He  has  the  same  poverty  of  expression  that  cows 
are  cursed  with.  To  wear  his  feelings  like  an  overcoat 
where  everybody  can  see  them  is  for  him  impossible. 
He  is  the  bovine  of  the  human  species.  This  is  the  rea 
son  why  I  used  to  have  such  fearful  crises  once  in  a 
while  in  my  dumb  life,  as  when  I  was  treated  so  kindly 
by  Captain  Sproule  just  after  my  stepfather  whipped 
me ;  or  when  I  nearly  killed  Ace,  my  fellow-driver,  on 
the  canal  in  my  first  and  successful  rebellion;  or  when 
I  used  to  grow  white,  and  cry  like  a  baby  in  my  fights 
with  rival  drivers.  I  am  thought  by  my  children,  I 
guess,  an  unfeeling  person,  because  the  surface  of  my 
nature  is  ice,  and  does  not  ripple  in  every  breeze;  but 
when  ice  breaks  up,  it  rips  and  tears — and  the  thicker 
the  ice,  the  worse  the  ravage.  The  only  reason  for  say 
ing  anything  about  this  is  that  I  am  an  old  man.  and  I 
have  always  wanted  to  say  it :  and  there  are  some  things 
I  have  said,  and  some  I  shall  now  have  to  say,  that  will 
seem  inconsistent  unless  the  truths  just  stated  are  taken 
into  account. 

But  there  are  some  things  to  be  told  about  before  this 
crisis  can  be  understood.  Life  dragged  along  for  all  of 
us  from  one  year  to  another  in  the  slow  movement  of  a 
new  country  in  hard  times :  only  I  was  at  bottom  better 
off  than  most  of  my  neighbors  because  I  had  cattle, 
though  I  could  not  see  how  they  then  did  me  much  good. 
They  grew  in  numbers,  and  keeping  them  was  just  a 
matter  of  labor.  My  stock  was  the  only  thing  I  had  ex 
cept  land  which  was  almost  worthless ;  for  I  could  use  the 
land  of  others  for  pasture  and  hay  without  paying  rent. 

Town  life  went  backward  in  most  ways.     My  inter- 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  325 

est  in  it  centered  in  Virginia  and  through  her  in  Elder 
Thorndyke's  family;  but  of  this  family  I  saw  little  ex 
cept  for  my  visits  from  Grandma  Thorndyke.  She  came 
out  and  red  up  the  house  as  often  as  she  could  catch  a 
ride,  and  I  kept  up  my  now  well-known  secret  policy  of 
supplying  the  Thorndyke  family  with  my  farm,  dairy  and 
poultry  surplus.  Why  not  ?  I  lay  in  bed  of  nights  think 
ing  that  Virginia  had  been  that  day  fed  on  what  I  grew, 
and  in  the  morning  would  eat  buckwheat  cakes  from 
grain  that  I  worked  to  grow,  flour  from  my  wheat  that  I 
had  taken  to  mill,  spread  with  butter  which  I  had  made 
with  my  own  hands,  from  the  cows  she  used  to  pet  and 
that  had  hauled  her  in  my  wagon  back  along  the 
Ridge  Road,  and  with  nice  sorghum  molasses  from  cane 
that  I  had  grown  and  hauled  to  the  sorghum  mill.  That 
she  would  have  meat  that  I  had  prepared  for  her,  with 
eggs  from  the  descendants  of  the  very  hens  to  which  she 
had  fed  our  table  scraps  when  we  were  together.  That 
maybe  she  would  think  of  me  when  she  made  bread  for 
Grandma  Thorndyke  from  my  flour.  It  was  sometimes 
almost  like  being  married  to  Virginia,  this  feeling  of 
standing  between  her  and  hunger.  The  very  roses  in  her 
cheeks,  and  the  curves  in  her  developing  form,  seemed 
of  my  making.  But  she  never  came  with  grandma  to 
help  red  up. 

2 

Grandma  often  told  me  that  now  I  was  getting  pretty 
nearly  old  enough  to  be  married,  or  would  be  when  I  was 
twenty-one,  which  would  be  in  July — "Though,"  she 
always  said,  "I  don't  believe  in  folks's  being  married 
under  the  spell  of  puppy  love.  Thirty  is  soon  enough ; 
but  yet,  you  might  do  well  to  marry  when  you  are  a  little 


326  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

younger,  because  you  need  a  wife  to  keep  you  clean  and 
tidy,  and  you  can  support  a  wife."  She  began  bringing 
girls  with  her  to  help  fix  my  house  up ;  and  she  would 
always  show  them  the  castor  and  my  other  things. 

"Dat  bane  for  Christina,"  said  Magnus  one  time,  when 
she  was  showing  my  castor  and  a  nice  white  china  dinner 
set,  to  Kittie  Fleming  or  Rose  Roebuck,  both  of  whom 
were  among  her  samples  of  girls  shown  me.  "An5  dat 
patent  churn — dat  bane  for  Christina,  too,  eh,  Yake  ?" 

"Christina  who?"  asked  Grandma  Thorndyke  sharply. 

"Christina  Quale,"  said  Magnus,  "my  cousin  in  Nor- 
vay." 

This  was  nuts  and  apples  for  Grandma  Thorndyke  and 
the  girls  who  came.  Magnus  showed  them  Christina's 
picture,  and  told  them  that  I  had  a  copy  of  it,  and  all  about 
what  a  nice  girl  Christina  was.  Now  grandma  made  a 
serious  thing  of  this  and  soon  I  had  the  reputation  of 
being  engaged  to  Magnus's  cousin,  who  was  the  daughter 
of  a  rich  farmer,  and  could  write  English ;  and  even  that 
I  had  received  a  letter  from  her.  This  seemed  unjust  to 
me,  though  I  was  a  little  mite  proud  of  it ;  for  the  letter 
was  only  one  page  written  in  English  in  one  of  Magnus's. 
All  the  time  grandma  was  bringing  girls  with  her  to  help, 
and  making  me  work  with  them  when  I  helped.  They 
were  nice  girls,  too — Kittie,  and  Dose,  Lizzie  Finster,  and 
Zeruiah  Strickler,  and  Amy  Smith — all  farmer  girls. 
Grandma  was  always  talking  about  the  wisdom  of  my 
marrying  a  farmer  girl. 

"The  best  thing  about  Christina,"  said  she,  "is  that 
she  is  the  daughter  of  a  farmer." 

I  struggled  with  this  Christina  idea,  and  tried  to  make 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  327 

it  clear  that  she  was  nothing  to  me,  that  it  was  just  a  joke. 
Grandma  Thorndyke  smiled. 

"Of  course  you'd  say  that/'  said  she. 

But  the  Christina  myth  grew  wonderfully,  and  it  made 
me  more  interesting  to  the  other  girls. 

"You  look  too  high 
For  things  close  by, 
And  slight  the  things  around  you!" 

So  sang  Zeruiah  Strieker  as  she  scrubbed  my  kitchen, 
and  in  pauses  of  her  cheerful  and  encouraging  song  told 
of  the  helplessness  of  men  without  their  women.  I  really 
believed  her,  in  spite  of  my  success  in  getting  along  by 
myself. 

"Why  don't  you  bring  Virginia  out  some  day?"  I 
asked  on  one  of  these  occasions,  when  it  seemed  to  me 
that  Grandma  Thorndyke  was  making  herself  just  a  little 
too  frequent  a  visitor  at  my  place. 

"Miss  Royall,"  said  she,  as  if  she  had  been  speaking  of 
the  Queen  of  Sheba,  "is  busy  with  her  own  circle  of 
friends.  She  is  now  visiting  at  Governor  Wade's.  She 
is  almost  a  member  of  the  family  there.  And  her  law 
matters  take  up  a  good  deal  of  her  time,  too.  Mr.  Gowdy 
says  he  thinks  he  may  be  able  to  get  her  property  for  her 
soon.  She  can  hardly  be  expected  to  come  out  for  this." 

And  grandma  swept  her  hands  about  to  cast  down  into 
nothingness  my  house,  my  affairs,  and  me.  This  plunged 
me  into  the  depths  of  misery. 

So,  when  I  furnished  the  cream  for  the  donation  pic 
nic  at  Crabapple  Grove  in  strawberry  time,  I  went  pre 
pared  to  see  myself  discarded  by  my  love.  She  was  there. 


328     ,  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  I  had  not  overestimated  her  coldness  toward  me, 
Buck  Gowdy  came  for  only  a  few  minutes,  and  these  he 
spent  eating  ice-cream  with  Elder  Thorndyke,  with  Vir 
ginia  across  the  table  from  him,  looking  at  her  in 
that  old  way  of  his.  Before  he  left,  she  went  over  and  sat 
with  Bob  Wade  and  Kittie  Fleming ;  but  he  joined  them 
pretty  soon,  and  I  saw  him  bending  down  in  that  intimate 
way  of  his,  first  speaking  to  Kittie,  and  then  for  a  longer 
time,  to  Virginia — and  I  thought  of  the  time  when  she 
would  not  even  speak  his  name ! 

Once  she  walked  off  by  herself  in  the  trees,  and 
looked  back  at  me  as  she  went ;  but  I  was  done  with 
her,  I  said  to  myself,  and  hung  back.  She  soon 
returned  to  the  company,  and  began  flirting  with 
Matthias  Trickey,  who  was  no  older  than  I,  and  just 
as  much  of  a  country  bumpkin.  I  found  out  afterward 
that  right  off  after  that,  Matthias  began  going  to  see  her, 
with  his  pockets  full  of  candy  with  mottoes  on  it.  I  called 
this  sparking,  and  the  sun  of  my  hopes  set  in  a  black  bank 
of  clouds.  I  do  not  remember  that  I  was  ever  so  unhappy, 
not  even  when  John  Rucker  was  in  power  over  me  and 
my  mother,  not  even  when  I  was  seeking  my  mother  up 
and  down  the  canal  and  the  Lakes,  not  even  when  I  found 
that  she  had  gone  away  on  her  last  long  journey  that 
bleak  winter  day  in  Madison.  I  now  devoted  myself  to 
the  memory  of  my  old  dreams  for  my  mother,  and  blamed 
myself  for  treason  to  her  memory,  getting  out  that  old 
letter  and  the  poor  work-worn  shoe,  and  weeping  over 
them  in  my  lonely  nights  in  the  cabin  on  the  prairie.  I 
can  not  now  think  of  this  without  pity  for  myself ;  and 
though  Grandma  Thorndyke  was  one  of  the  best  women 
that  ever  lived  on  this  footstool,  and  was  much  to  me  in 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  329 

my  after  life,  I  can  not  think  of  her  happiness  at  my 
despair  without  blaming  her  memory  a  little.  But  she 
meant  well.  She  had  better  plans,  as  she  thought,  for 
Virginia,  than  any  which  she  thought  I  could  have. 


It  was  not  more  than  a  week  after  this  donation  pic 
nic,  when  I  came  home  for  my  nooning  one  day,  and 
found  a  covered  wagon  in  the  yard,  and  two  strange 
horses  in  the  stable.  When  I  went  to  the  house,  there 
were  Old  Man  Fewkes  and  Mrs.  Fewkes,  and  Surajah 
Dowlah  and  Celebrate  Fourth.  I  welcomed  them 
heartily.  I  was  so  lonesome  that  I  would  have  welcomed 
a  stray  dog,  and  that  is  pretty  nearly  what  I  was  doing. 

"I  guess,"  ventured  the  old  man,  after  we  had  fin 
ished  our  dinner,  "that  you  are  wondering  where  we're 
goin',  Jake." 

"A  long  ways,"  I  said,  "by  the  looks  of  your  rig." 

"You  see  us  now,"  he  went  on,  "takin'  steps  that  I've 
wanted  to  take  ever  sen'  I  found  out  what  a  den  of  inikerty 
we  throwed  ourselves  into  when  we  went  out  yon',"  point 
ing  in  the  general  direction  of  the  Blue-grass  Manor. 

"What  steps  are  you  takin'  ?"  I  asked. 

"We  are  makin',"  said  he,  "our  big  move  for  riches. 
Gold!  Gold!  Jake,  you  must  go  with  us!  We  are  goin' 
out  to  the  Speak." 

I  had  never  heard  of  any  place  called  the  Speak,  but 
I  finally  got  it  through  my  head  that  he  meant  Pike's 
Peak.  We  were  in  the  midst  of  the  Pike's  Peak  excite 
ment  for  two  or  three  years  ;  and  this  was  the  earliest  sign 
of  it  that  I  had  seen,  though  I  had  heard  Pike's  Peak 
mentioned. 


330  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"Jake,"  said  Old  Man  Fewkes,  "it's  a  richer  spot  than 
the  Arabian  Knights  ever  discovered.  The  streams  are 
rollin'  gold  sand.  Come  along  of  us  to  the  Speak,  an' 
we'll  make  you  rich.  Eh,  ma?" 

"I  have  been  drailed  around,"  said  ma,  as  she  saw  me 
looking  at  her,  "about  as  much  as  I  expect  to  be ;  but  this 
is  like  goin'  home.  It's  the  last  move ;  and  as  pa  has  said 
ag'in  an'  ag'in,  it  ain't  but  six  or  eight  hundred  mile  from 
Omaha,  an'  with  the  team  an'  wagin  we've  got,  that's 
nothin'  if  we  find  the  gold,  an'  I  calculate  there  ain't  no 
doubt  of  that.  The  Speak  looks  like  the  best  place  we 
ever  started  fur,  and  we  all  hope  you'll  leave  this  Land 
o'  Desolation,  an'  come  with  us.  We  like  you,  an'  we  want 
you  to  be  rich  with  us." 

"Where's  Rowena?"  I  asked. 

Silence  for  quite  a  while.    Then  Ma  Fewkes  spoke. 

"Rowena,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling,  "Rowena 
ain't  goin'  with  us." 

"Why,"  I  said,  "last  summer,  she  seemed  to  want  to 
start  for  Texas.  She  ain't  goin'  with  you?  I  want  to 
know !" 

"She  ain't  no  longer,"  said  Old  Man  Fewkes,  "a  mem 
ber  o'  my  family.  I  shall  will  my  proputty  away  from 
her.  I've  made  up  my  mind,  Jake:  an'  now  le's  talk 
about  the  Speak.  Our  plans  was  never  better  laid.  Cele 
brate,  tell  Jake  how  we  make  our  money  a-goin',  and  you, 
Surrager,  denote  to  him  your  machine  f'r  gittin'  out  the 
gold." 

I  was  too  absorbed  in  thinking  about  Rowena  to  take 
in  what  Sura j ah  and  Celebrate  said.  I  have  a  dim  recol 
lection  that  Celebrate's  plan  for  making  money  was  to  fill 
the  wagon  box  with  white  beans  which  were  scarce  in 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  331 

Denver  City,  as  we  then  called  Denver,  and  could  be  sold 
for  big  money  when  they  got  there.  I  have  no  remem 
brance  of  Surajah  Dowlah's  plan  for  mining.  I  declined 
to  go  with  them,  and  they  went  away  toward  Monterey 
Centre,  saying  that  they  would  stay  there  a  few  days,  "to 
kind  of  recuperate  up,"  and  they  hoped  I  would  join  them. 

What  about  Rowena?  They  had  been  so  mysterious 
about  her,  that  I  had  a  new  subject  of  thought  now,  and, 
for  I  was  very  fond  of  the  poor  girl,  of  anxiety.  Not 
that  she  would  be  the  worse  for  losing  her  family.  In 
fact,  she  would  be  the  better  for  it,  one  might  think.  Her 
older  brothers  and  sisters,  I  remembered,  had  been  bound 
out  back  east,  and  this  seemed  to  show  a  lack  of  family 
affection ;  but  the  tremor  in  Ma  Fewkes's  voice,  and  the 
agitation  in  which  Old  Man  Fewkes  had  delivered  what 
in  books  would  be  his  parental  curse,  led  me  to  think  that 
they  were  in  deep  trouble  on  account  of  their  breach  with 
Rowena.  Poor  girl!  After  all,  they  were  her  parents 
and  brothers,  and  as  long  as  she  was  with  them,  she  had 
not  been  quite  alone  in  the  world.  My  idea  of  what  had 
taken  place  may  be  judged  by  the  fact  that  when  I  next 
saw  Magnus  I  asked  him  if  he  knew  that  Rowena  and 
her  people  had  had  a  fuss.  I  looked  upon  the  case  as  that 
of  a  family  fuss,  and  that  only.  Magnus  looked  very  sol 
emn,  and  said  that  he  had  seen  none  of  the  family  since 
we  had  finished  our  work  for  Gowdy — a  year  ago. 

"What  said  the  old  man,  Yake?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"He  said  he  was  going  to  will  his  property  away  from 
her !"  I  replied,  laughing  heartily  at  the  idea :  but  Mag 
nus  did  not  laugh.  "He  said  that  she  ain't  no  longer  a 
member  of  his  family,  Magnus.  Don't  that  beat  you !" 

"Yes,"  said  Magnus  gravely,  "dat  beat  me,  Yake." 


332  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

He  bowed  his  head  in  thought  for  a  while,  and  then 
looked  up. 

"Ay  can't  go  to  her,  Yake.  Ay  can't  go  to  her.  But 
you  go,  Yake;  you  go.  An'  you  tal  her — dat  Magnus 
Thorkelson- — Norsky  Thorkelson — bane  ready  to  do 
what  he  can  for  her.  All  he  can  do.  Tal  her  Magnus 
ready  to  live  or  die  for  her.  You  tal  her  dat,  Yake !" 

I  had  to  think  over  this  a  few  days  before  I  could  begin 
to  guess  what  it  meant;  and  three  days  after,  she  came 
to  see  me.  It  was  a  Sunday  right  after  harvest. 
I  had  put  on  my  new  clothes  thinking  to  go  to  hear  Elder 
Thorndyke  preach,  but  when  I  thought  that  I  had  no 
longer  any  pleasure  in  the  thought  of  Virginia,  no  chance 
ever  to  have  her  for  my  wife,  no  dreams  of  her  for  the 
future  even,  I  sat  in  a  sort  of  stupor  until  it  was  too  late 
to  go,  and  then  I  walked  out  to  look  at  things. 

The  upland  phlox,  we  called  them  pinks,  were  gone; 
the  roses  had  fallen  and  were  represented  by  green  haws, 
turning  to  red ;  the  upland  scarlet  lilies  were  vanished ; 
but  the  tall  lilies  of  the  moist  places  were  flaming  like 
yellow  stars  over  the  tall  grass,  each  with  its  six  dusty 
anthers  whirling  like  little  windmills  about  its  red 
stigma;  and  beside  these  lilies,  with  their  spotted  petals 
turned  back  to  their  roots,  stood  the  clumps  of  purple 
marsh  phlox;  while  towering  over  them  all  were  the 
tall  rosin-weeds  with  their  yellow  blossoms  like  sun 
flowers,  and  the  Indian  medicine  plant  waving  purple 
plumes.  There  was  a  sense  of  autumn  in  the  air. 
Far  off  across  the  marsh  I  saw  that  the  settlers  had 
their  wheat  in  symmetrical  beehive-shaped  stacks  while 
mine  stood  in  the  shock,  my  sloping  hillside  slanting 
down  to  the  marsh  freckled  with  the  shocks  until  it  looked 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  333 

dark — the  almost  sure  sign  of  a  bountiful  crop.  And  as 
I  looked  at  this  scene  of  plenty,  I  sickened  at  it.  What 
use  to  me  were  wheat  in  the  shock,  hay  in  the  stack,  cat 
tle  on  the  prairie,  corn  already  hiding  the  ground  ?  Noth 
ing!  Less  than  nothing:  for  I  had  lost  the  thing  for 
which  I  had  worked — lost  it  before  I  had  claimed  it.  I 
sat  down  and  saw  the  opposite  side  of  the  marsh  swim 
in  my  tears. 

4 

And  then  Rowena  came  into  my  view  as  she  passed 
the  house.  I  hastily  dried  my  eyes,  and  went  to  meet  her, 
astonished,  for  she  was  alone.  She  was  riding  one  of 
Gowdy's  horses,  and  had  that  badge  of  distinction  in 
those  days,  a  side-saddle  and  a  riding  habit.  She  looked 
very  distinguished,  as  she  rode  slowly  toward  me,  her 
long  skirt  hanging  below  her  feet,  one  knee  crooked  about 
the  saddle  horn,  the  other  in  the  stirrup.  I  had  not  seen 
a  woman  riding  thus  since  the  time  I  had  watched  them 
sweeping  along  in  all  their  style  in  Albany  or  Buffalo. 
She  came  up  to  me  and  stopped,  looking  at  me  without 
a  word. 

"Why  of  all  things !"  I  said.    "Rowena,  is  this  you !" 

"What's  left  of  me,"  said  she. 

I  stood  looking  at  her  for  a  minute,  thinking  of  what 
her  father  and  mother  had  said,  and  finally  trying  to 
figure  out  what  seemed  to  be  a  great  change  in  her. 
There  was  something  new  in  her  voice,  and  her  manner  of 
looking  at  me  as  she  spoke ;  and  something  strange  in 
the  way  she  looked  out  of  her  eyes.  Her  face  was  a  little 
paler  than  it  used  to  be,  as  if  she  had  been  indoors  more ; 
but  there  was  a  pink  flush  in  her  cheeks  that  made  her 


334  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

look  prettier  than  I  had  ever  seen  her.  Her  eyes  were 
bright  as  if  with  tears  just  trembling  to  fall,  rather  than 
with  the  old  glint  of  defiance  or  high  spirits;  but  she 
smiled  and  laughed  more  than  ever  I  had  seen  her  do. 
She  acted  as  if  she  was  in  high  spirits,  as  I  have  seen 
even  very  quiet  girls  in  the  height  of  the  fun  and  frolic 
of  a  dance  or  sleigh-ride.  When  she  was  silent  for  a 
moment,  though,  her  mouth  drooped  as  if  in  some  sort  of 
misery ;  and  it  was  not  until  our  eyes  met  that  the  laugh 
ing  expression  came  over  her  face,  as  if  she  was  gay 
only  when  she  knew  she  was  watched.  She  seemed 
older — much  older. 

Somehow,  all  at  once  there  came  into  my  mind  the 
memory  of  the  woman  away  back  there  in  Buffalo, 
who  had  taken  me,  a  sleepy,  lonely,  neglected  little  boy, 
to  her  room,  put  me  to  bed,  and  been  driven  from  the 
fearful  place  in  which  she  lived,  because  of  it.  I  have 
finally  thought  of  the  word  to  describe  what  I  felt  in 
both  these  cases — desperation ;  desperation,  and  the 
feeling  of  pursuit  and  flight.  I  did  not  even  feel  all  this 
as  I  stood  looking  at  Rowena,  sitting  on  her  horse  so 
prettily  that  summer  day  at  my  farm ;  I  only  felt  puzzled 
and  a  little  pitiful  for  her — all  the  more,  I  guess,  because 
of  her  nice  clothes  and  her  side-saddle. 

"Well,  Mr.  Vandemark,"  said  she,  finally,  "I  don't 
hear  the  perprietor  of  the  estate  say  anything  about  'light 
ing  and  stayin'  a  while.'  Help  me  down,  Jake !" 

I  swung  her  from  the  saddle  and  tied  her  horse.  I 
stopped  to  put  a  halter  on  him,  unsaddle  him,  and  give 
him  hay.  I  wanted  time  to  think ;  but  I  do  not  remember 
that  I  had  done  much  if  any  thinking  when  I  got  back 
to  the  house,  and  found  that  she  had  taken  off  her  long 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  335 

skirt  and  was  sitting  on  the  little  stoop  in  front  of  my 
door.  She  wore  the  old  apron,  and  as  I  came  up  to  her, 
she  spread  it  out  with  her  hands  to  call  my  attention  to  it. 

"You  see,  Jake,  I've  come  to  work.  Show  me  the 
morning's  dishes,  an'  I'll  wash  'em.  Or  maybe  you  want 
bread  baked  ?  It  wouldn't  be  breakin'  the  Sabbath  to  mix 
up  a  bakin'  for  a  poor  ol'  bach  like  you,  would  it?  I'm 
huntin'  work.  Show  it  to  me." 

I  showed  her  how  clean  everything  was,  taking  pride 
in  my  housekeeping ;  and  when  she  seemed  not  over- 
pleased  with  this,  I  had  in  all  honesty  to  tell  her  how  much 
I  was  indebted  to  Mrs.  Thorndyke  for  it. 

"The  preacher's  wife  ?"  she  asked  sharply.  "An'  that 
adopted  daughter  o'  theirn,  Buck  Gowdy's  sister-in-law, 
eh?" 

I  wished  I  could  have  admitted  this ;  but  I  had  to 
explain  that  Virginia  had  not  been  there.  For  some 
reason  she  seemed  in  better  spirits  when  she  learned  this. 
When  it  came  time  for  dinner,  which  on  Sunday  was  at 
one  o'clock,  she  insisted  on  getting  the  meal ;  and  seemed 
to  be  terribly  anxious  for  fear  everything  might  not  be 
good.  It  was  a  delicious  meal,  and  to  see  her  preparing 
it,  and  then  clearing  up  the  table  and  washing  the  dishes 
gave  me  quite  a  thrill.  It  was  so  much  like  what  I  had 
seen  in  my  yisions — and  so  different. 

"Now,"  said  she,  coming  and  sitting  down  by  me, 
and  laying  her  hand  on  mine,  "ain't  this  more  like  it? 
Don't  that  beat  doing  everything  yourself?  If  you'd  only 
try  havin'  me  here  a  week,  nobody  could  hire  you  to  go 
back  to  bachin'  it  ag'in.  Think  how  nice  it  would  be  jest 
to  go  out  an'  do  your  chores  in  the  morning,  an'  when  you 


336  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

come  in  with  the  milk,  find  a  nice  breakfast  all  ready  to 
set  down  to.  Wouldn't  that  be  more  like  livin'  ?" 

"Yes/'  I  said,  "it— it  would." 

"That  come  hard,"  said  she,  squeezing  my  hand,  "like 
makin'  a  little  boy  own  up  he  likes  a  girl.  I  guess  I  won't 
ask  you  the  next  thing." 

"What  was  the  next  thing,  Rowena?" 

"W'y,  if  it  wouldn't  be  kind  o'  nice  to  have  some  one 
around,  even  if  she  wa'n't  very  pretty,  and  was  ignorant, 
if  she  was  willin'  to  learn,  an'  would  always  be  good  to 
you,  to  have  things  kind  o'  cheerful  at  night — your  supper 
ready ;  a  light  lit ;  dry  boots  warmed  by  the  stove ;  your 
bed  made  up  nice,  and  maybe  warmed  when  it  was  cold : 
even  if  she  happened  to  be  wearin'  an  old  apern  like  this — 
if  you  knowed  she  was  thinkin'  in  her  thankful  heart  of 
the  bashful  boy  that  give  it  to  her  back  along  the  road 
when  she  was  ragged  and  ashamed  of  herself  every  time 
a  stranger  looked  at  her !" 

Dumbhead  as  I  was  I  sat  mute,  and  looked  as  blank 
as  an  idiot.  In  all  this  description  of  hers  I  was  struck 
by  the  resemblance  between  her  vision  and  mine;  but  I 
was  dreaming  of  some  one  else.  She  looked  at  me  a  mo 
ment,  and  took  her  hand  away.  She  seemed  hurt,  and  T 
thought  I  saw  her  wiping  her  eyes.  I  could  not  believe 
that  she  was  almost  asking  me  to  marry  her,  it  seemed  so 
beyond  belief — and  I  was  joked  so  much  about  the  girls, 
and  about  getting  me  a  wife  that  it  seemed  this  must  be 
just  banter,  too.  And  yet,  there  was  something  a  little 
pitiful  in  it,  especially  when  she  spoke  again  about  my 
little  gift  to  her  so  long  ago. 

"I  never  looked  your  place  over,"  said  she  at  last. 
"That's  what  I  come  over  fur.  Show  it  to  me,  Jacob?" 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  337 

This  delighted  me.  We  looked  first  at  the  wheat,  and 
the  corn,  and  some  of  my  cattle  were  near  enough  so  that 
we  went  and  looked  at  them,  too.  I  told  her  where  I  had 
got  every  one  of  them.  We  looked  at  the  chickens  and 
the  ducks;  and  the  first  brood  of  young  turkeys  I  ever 
had.  I  showed  her  all  my  elms,  maples,  basswoods,  and 
other  forest  trees  which  I  had  brought  from  the  timber, 
and  even  the  two  pines  I  had  made  live,  then  not  over  a 
foot  high. 

I  just  now  came  in  from  looking  at  them,  and  find 
them  forty  feet  high  as  I  write  this,  with  their  branches 
resting  on  the  ground  in  a  great  brown  ring  carpeted  with 
needles  as  they  are  in  the  pineries. 

We  sat  down  on  the  blue-grass  under  what  is 
now  the  big  cottonwood  in  front  of  the  house.  I  had 
stuck  this  in  the  sod  a  little  twig  not  two  feet  long,  and 
now  it  was  ten  or  twelve  feet  high,  and  made  a  very 
little  shade,  to  be  sure,  but  wasn't  I  proud  of  my  own 
shade  trees !  Oh,  you  can't  understand  it ;  for  you  can 
not  realize  the  beauty  of  shade  on  that  great  sun-bathed 
prairie,  or  the  promise  in  the  changing  shadows  under 
that  little  tree ! 

Rowena  leaned  back  against  the  gray-green  trunk,  and 
patted  the  turf  beside  her  for  me  to  be  seated. 

Every  circumstance  of  this  strange  day  comes  back  to 
me  as  I  think  of  it,  and  of  what  followed.  I  remember 
just  how  the  poor  girl  looked  as  she  sat  leaning  against 
the  tree,  her  cheeks  flushed  by  the  heat  of  the  summer 
afternoon,  that  look  of  distress  in  her  eyes  as  she  looked 
around  so  brightly  and  with  so  gay  an  air  over  my  little 
kingdom.  As  she  sat  there  she  loosened  her  belt  and 


338  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

took  a  long  breath  as  if  relieved  in  her  weariness  at  the 
long  ramble  we  had  taken. 

"I  never  have  had  a  home,"  she  said.  "I  never  had  no 
idee  how  folk  that  have  got  things  lived — till  I  went  over 
— over  to  that — that  hell-hole  there !"  And  she  waved  her 
hand  over  toward  Blue-grass  Manor.  I  was  startled  at  her 
fierce  manner  and  words. 

"Your  folks  come  along  here  the  other  day,"  I  said,  to 
turn  the  subject,  I  guess. 

"Did  they  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  little  gasp.  "What  did 
they  say?" 

"They  said  they  were  headed  for  Pike's  Peak." 

"The  old  story,"  she  said.  "Huntin'  fr  the  place 
where  the  hawgs  run  around  ready  baked,  with  knives 
an'  forks  stuck  in  'em.  I  wish  to  God  I  was  with  'em !" 

Here  she  stopped  for  a  while  and  sat  with  her  hands 
twisted  together  in  her  lap.  Finally,  "Did  they  say  any 
thing  about  me,  Jacob?" 

"I  thought,"  said  I,  "that  they  talked  as  if  you'd  had 
a  fuss." 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "They're  all  I've  got.  They  hain't 
much,  I  reckon,  but  they're  as  good  as  I  be,  I  s'pose.  Yes, 
a  lot  better.  They're  my  father  an'  my  mother,  an'  my 
brothers.  In  their  way — in  our  way — they  was  always 
as  good  to  me  as  they  knowed  how.  I  remember  when 
ma  used  to  kiss  me,  and  pa  held  me  on  his  lap.  Do  you 
remember  he's  got  one  finger  off  ?  I  used  to  play  with  his 
fingers,  an'  try  to  build  'em  up  into  a  house,  while  he  set 
an'  told  about  new  places  he  was  goin'  to  to  git  rich.  I 
wonder  if  the  time'll  ever  come  ag'in  when  I  can  set  on 
any  one's  lap  an'  be  kissed  without  any  harm  in  it !" 

There  was  no  false  gaiety  in  her  face  now,  as  she  sat 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  339 

and  looked  off  over  the  marsh  from  the  brow  of  the  hill- 
slope.  A  feeling  of  coming  evil  swept  over  me  as  I 
looked  at  her,  like  that  which  goes  through  the  nerves  of 
the  cattle  when  a  tornado  is  coming.  I  remembered  now 
the  silence  of  her  brothers  when  her  father  and  mother 
had  said  that  she  was  no  longer  a  member  of  their  fam 
ily,  and  was  not  going  with  them  to  "the  Speak." 

The  comical  threat  of  the  old  man  that  he  would  will 
his  property  away  from  her  did  not  sound  so  funny  now ; 
for  there  must  have  been  something  more  than  an  ordi 
nary  family  disagreement  to  have  made  them  feel  thus. 
I  recalled  the  pained  look  in  Ma  Fewkes's  face,  as  she  sat 
with  her  shoulder-blades  drawn  together  and  cast  Ro- 
wena  out  from  the  strange  family  circle.  What  could  it 
be  ?  I  turned  my  back  to  her  as  I  sat  on  the  ground ; 
and  she  took  me  by  the  shoulders,  pulled  me  down  so 
that  my  head  was  lying  in  her  lap,  and  began  smoothing 
my  hair  back  from  my  forehead  with  a  very  caressing 
touch. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "we  wun't  spoil  our  day  by  talkin' 
of  my  troubles.  This  place  here  is  heaven,  to  me,  so  quiet, 
so  clean,  so  good !  Le's  not  spoil  it." 

And  before  I  knew  what  she  meant  to  do,  she  stooped 
down  and  kissed  me  on  the  lips — kissed  me  several  times. 
I  can  not  claim  that  I  was  offended,  she  was  so  pretty,  so 
rosy,  so  young  and  attractive ;  but  at  the  same  time,  I  was 
a  little  scared.  I  wanted  to  end  this  situation ;  so,  pretty 
soon,  I  proposed  that  we  go  down  to  see  where  I  kept 
my  milk.  I  felt  like  calling  her  attention  to  the  fact 
that  it  was  getting  well  along  in  the  afternoon,  and  that 
she  would  be  late  home  if  she  did  not  start  soon ;  but  that 
would  not  be  very  friendly,  and  I  did  not  want  to  hurt 


340  VANDKMARK'S  FOLLY 

her  feelings.  So  we  went  down  to  the  spring  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  where  the  secret  lay  of  my  nice,  firm,  sweet 
butter.  She  did  not  seem  very  much  interested,  even 
when  I  showed  her  the  tank  in  which  the  pans  of  milk 
stood  in  the  cool  water.  She  soon  went  over  to  a  big 
granite  boulder  left  there  by  the  glaciers  ages  ago  when 
the  hill  was  made  by  the  melting  ice  dropping  its  earth 
and  gravel,  and  sat  down  as  if  to  rest.  So  I  went  and 
sat  beside  her. 

"Jacob,"  said  she,  with  a  sort  of  gasp,  "you  wonder 
why  I  kissed  you  up  there,  don't  you  ?" 

I  should  not  have  confessed  this  when  I  was  young, 
for  it  is  not  the  man's  part  I  played ;  but  I  blushed,  and 
turned  my  face  away. 

"I  love  you,  Jacob!"  she  took  my  hand  as  she  said 
this,  and  with  her  other  hand  turned  my  face  toward 
her.  "I  want  you  to  marry  me.  Will  you,  Jacob  ?  I — I — 
I  need  you.  I'll  be  good  to  you,  Jake.  Don't  say  no! 
Don't  say  no,  for  God's  sake!" 

Then  the  tragic  truth  seemed  to  dawn  on  me,  or  rather 
it  came  like  a  flash ;  and  I  turned  and  looked  at  her  as 
I  had  not  done  before.  I  am  slow,  or  I  should  have 
known  when  her  father  and  mother  had  spoken  as  they 
did ;  but  now  I  could  see.  I  could  see  why  she  needed 
me.  As  an  unsophisticated  boy,  I  had  been  blind  in  my 
failure  to  see  something  new  and  unexpected  to  me  in 
human  relations ;  but  once  it  came  to  me,  it  was  plain.  I 
was  a  stockman,  as  well  as  a  boy ;  and  my  life  was  closely 
related  to  the  mysterious  processes  by  which  the  world 
is  filled  with  successive  generations  of  living  beings.  I 
was  like  a  family  physician  to  my  animals ;  and  wise  in 
their  days  and  generations.  Rowena  was  explained  to  me 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  341 

in  a  flash  of  lightning  by  my  every-day  experiences ;  she 
was  swept  within  the  current  of  my  knowledge. 

"Rowena,"  said  I,  "you  are  in  trouble." 

She  knew  what  I  meant. 

I  hope  never  again  to  see  any  one  in  such  agony. 
Her  face  flamed,  and  then  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet. 
She  looked  at  me  with  that  distressful  expression  in  her 
eyes,  rose  as  if  to  go  away,  and  then  came  back  and 
sitting  down  again  on  the  stone,  she  buried  her  head  on 
my  breast  and  wept  so  terribly  that  I  was  afraid.  I 
tried  to  dry  her  tears,  but  they  burst  out  afresh  when 
ever  I  looked  in  her  face.  The  poor  thing  was  ashamed 
to  look  in  my  eyes;  but  she  clung  to  me,  sobbing,  and 
crying  out,  and  then  drawing  long  quivering  breaths 
which  seemed  to  be  worse  than  sobs.  When  she  spoke, 
it  was  in  short,  broken  sentences,  sometimes  unfinished, 
as  her  agony  returned  upon  her  and  would  not  let  her 
go  on. 

I  could  not  feel  any  scorn  or  contempt  for  her ;  I 
could  as  soon  have  looked  down  on  a  martyr  burning 
at  the  stake  for  an  act  in  which  I  did  not  believe. 
She  was  like  a  dumb  beast  tied  in  a  burning  stall,  only 
able  to  moan  and  cry  out  and  endure. 

I  have  often  thought  that  to  any  one  who  had  not 
seen  and  heard  it,  the  first  thing  she  said  might  seem 
comic. 

"Jacob,"  she  said,  with  her  face  buried  in  my  breast, 
"they've  got  it  worked  around  so — I'm  goin'  to  have  a 
baby!" 

But  when  you  think  of  the  circumstances ;  the  poor, 
pretty,  inexperienced  girl ;  of  that  poor  slack-twisted 
family ;  of  her  defenselessness  in  that  great  house ;  of  the 


342  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

experienced  and  practised  and  conscienceless  seducer 
into  whose  hands  she  had  fallen — when  you  think  of  all 
this,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  fail  to  see  how  the  words 
were  wrung  from  her  as  a  statement  of  the  truth.  "They'' 
meant  all  the  forces  which  had  been  too  strong  for  her, 
not  the  least,  her  own  weakness — for  weakness  is  one  of 
the  most  powerful  forces  in  our  affairs.  "They  had  got 
it  worked  around" — as  if  the  very  stars  in  their  courses 
had  conspired  to  destroy  her.  I  had  no  impulse  to  laugh 
at  her  strange  way  of  stating  it,  as  if  she  had  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it  herself :  instead,  I  felt  the  tears  of  sympathy 
roll  down  my  face  upon  her  hair  of  rich  brown. 

"That's  why  my  folks  have  throwed  me  off,"  she  went 
on.  "But  I  ain't  bad,  Jacob.  I  ain't  bad.  Take  me,  and 
save  me !  I'll  always  be  good  to  you,  Jake ;  I'll  wash 
your  feet  with  my  hair!  I'll  kiss  them!  I'll  eat  the 
crusts  from  the  table  an'  be  glad,  for  I  love  you,  Jacob. 
I've  loved  you  ever  since  I  saw  you.  If  I  have  been 
untrue  to  you,  it  was  because  I  was  overcome,  and  you 
never  looked  twice  at  me,  and  I  thought  I  was  to  be  a 
great  lady.  Now  I'll  be  mud,  trod  on  by  every  beast  that 
walks,  an'  rooted  over  by  the  hawgs,  unless  you  save 
me.  I'll  work  my  fingers  to  the  bone  f'r  you,  Jacob,  to 
the  bone.  You're  my  only  hope.  For  Christ's  sake  let 
me  hope  a  little  longer!" 

The  thought  that  she  was  coming  to  me  to  save  her 
from  the  results  of  her  own  sin  never  came  into  my  mind. 
I  only  saw  her  as  a  lost  woman,  cast  off  even  by  her  mis 
erable  family,  whose  only  claim  to  respectability  was  their 
having  kept  themselves  from  the  one  depth  into  which 
she  had  fallen.  I  thought  again  of  that  wretch  who  had 
been  kind  to  me  in  Buffalo,  and  of  poor  Rowena,  in 
poverty  and  want,  stripped  of  every  defense  against 


I  RECEIVE  A  PROPOSAL  343 

wrongs  piled  on  wrongs,  rooted  over,  as  she  said,  by  the 
very  swine,  until  she  should  come  to  some  end  so  dreadful 
that  I  could  not  imagine  it ;  and  not  of  her  alone.  There 
would  be  another  life  to  be  thought  of.  I  knew  that 
Buckner  Gowdy,  for  she  had  told  me  of  his  blame  in  the 
matter,  of  her  appeal  to  him,  of  his  light-hearted  cruelty 
to  her,  of  how  now  at  last,  after  months  of  losing  rivalry 
between  her  and  that  other  of  his  victims,  the  wife  of 
Mobley  the  overseer,  she  had  come  to  me  in  desperation 
— I  knew  there  was  nothing  in  that  cold  heart  to  which 
Rowena  could  make  any  appeal  that  had  not  been  made 
unsuccessfully  by  others  in  the  same  desperate  case. 

I  had  no  feeling  that  she  should  have  told  me  all  in 
the  first  place,  instead  of  trying  to  win  me  in  my  igno 
rance  :  for  I  felt  that  she  was  driven  by  a  thousand  whips 
to  things  which  might  not  be  honest,  but  were  as  free 
from  blame  as  the  doublings  of  a  hunted  deer.  I  felt  no 
blame  for  her  then,  and  I  have  never  felt  any.  I  passed 
that  by,  and  tried  to  look  in  the  face  what  I  should  have 
to  give  up  if  I  took  this  girl  for  my  wife.  That  sacrifice 
rolled  over  me  like  a  black  cloud,  as  clear  as  if  I  had  had 
a  month  in  which  to  realize  it. 

I  pushed  her  hands  from  my  shoulders,  and  rose  to 
my  feet ;  and  she  knelt  down  and  clasped  her  arms  around 
my  knees. 

"I  must  think !"  I  said.    "Let  me  be !    Let  me  think !" 

I  took  a  step  backward,  and  as  I  turned  I  saw  her 
kneeling  there,  her  hair  all  about  her  face,  with  her  hands 
stretched  out  to  me:  and  then  I  walked  blindly  away 
into  the  long  grass  of  the  marsh. 

I  finally  found  myself  running  as  if  to  get  away  from 
the  whole  thing,  with  the  tall  grass  tangling  about  my 
feet.  All  my  plans  for  my  life  with  Virginia  came  back 


344  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

to  me:  I  lived  over  again  every  one  of  those  beautiful 
days  I  had  spent  with  her.  I  remembered  how  she  had 
come  back  to  bid  me  good-by  when  I  left  her  at  Water 
loo,  and  turned  her  over  again  to  Grandma  Thorndyke ; 
but  especially,  I  lived  over  again  our  days  in  the  grove. 
I  remembered  that  for  months,  now,  she  had  seemed  lost 
to  me,  and  that  all  the  hope  I  had  had  appeared  to  be  that 
of  living  alone  and  dreaming  of  her.  I  was  not  asked  by 
poor  Rowena  to  give  up  much ;  and  yet  how  much  it  was 
to  me!  But  how  little  for  me  to  lose  to  save  her  from 
the  fate  in  store  for  her ! 

I  can  not  hope  to  make  clear  to  any  one  the  tearing 
and  rending  in  my  breast  as  these  things  passed  through 
my  mind  while  I  went  on  and  on,  through  water  and 
mud,  blindly  stumbling,  dazed  by  the  sufferings  I 
endured.  I  caught  my  feet  in  the  long  grass,  fell — and 
it  did  not  seem  worth  while  to  rise  again. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  the  dusk  came  on  as  I  lay 
there  with  my  hands  twisted  in  the  grass  which  drooped 
over  me.  Then  I  thought  of  Rowena,  and  I  got  upon 
my  feet  and  started  in  search  of  her,  but  soon  forgot  her 
in  my  thoughts  of  the  life  I  should  live  if  I  did  what  she 
wanted  of  me.  I  was  in  such  a  daze  that  I  went  within  a 
rod  of  her  as  she  sat  on  the  stone,  without  seeing  her, 
though  the  summer  twilight  was  still  a  filtered  radiance, 
when  suddenly  all  went  dark  before  my  eyes,  and  I  fell 
again.  Rowena  saw  me  fall,  and  came  to  me. 

"Jacob,"  she  cried,  as  she  helped  me  to  my  feet, 
"Jacob,  what's  the  matter!" 

"Rowena,"  said  I,  trying  to  stand  alone,  "I've  made 
up  my  mind.  I  had  other  plans — but  I'll  do  what  you 
want  me  to  I" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT — THE  PRAIRIE  FIRE 

HPHE  collapse  of  mind  and  body  which  I  underwent  in 
•*•  deciding  the  question  of  marrying  Rowena  Fewkes 
or  of  keeping  unstained  and  pure  the  great  love  of  my 
life,  refusing  her  pitiful  plea  and  passing  by  on  the 
other  side,  leaving  her  desolate  and  fordone,  is  a  thing  to 
which  I  hate  to  confess ;  for  it  was  a  weakness.  Yet,  it 
was  the  directing  fact  of  that  turning-point  not  only  in 
my  own  life,  but  in  the  lives  of  many  others — of  the  life 
of  Vandemark  Township,  of  Monterey  County,  and  of 
the  State  of  Iowa,  to  some  extent.  The  excuse  for  it  lies, 
as  I  have  said,  in  the  way  I  am  organized ;  in  the  bovine 
dumbness  of  my  life,  bursting  forth  in  a  few  crises  in 
storms  of  the  deepest  bodily  and  spiritual  tempest.  I 
could  not  and  can  not  help  it.  I  was  weak  as  a  child,  as 
she  clasped  me  in  her  arms  in  gratitude  when  I  told  her 
I  would  do  as  she  wanted  me  to;  and  would  have  fallen 
again  if  she  had  not  held  me  up. 

"What's   the   matter,   Jacob?"    she   said,    in   sudden 
fright  at  my  strange  behavior. 

"I  don't  know,"  I  gasped.    "I  wish  I  could  lay  down." 

She  was  mystified.    She  helped  me  up  the  hill,  telling 

me  all  the  time  how  she  meant  to  live  so  as  to  repay  me 

for  all  I  had  promised  to  do  for  her.    She  was  stronger 

345 


346  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

than  I,  then,  and  helped  me  into  the  house,  which  was 
dark,  now,  and  lighted  the  lamp;  but  when  she  came  to 
me,  lying  on  the  bed,  she  gave  a  great  scream. 

"Jake,  Jake!"  she  cried,  "What's  the  matter!  Are 
you  dying,  my  darling?" 

"Who,  me  dying?"  I  said,  not  quite  understanding 
her.  "No— I'm  all  right— I'll  be  all  right,  Rowena !" 

She  was  holding  her  hands  up  in  the  light.  They 
were  stained  crimson  where  she  had  pressed  them  to  my 
bosom. 

"What's  the  matter  of  your  hands?"  I  asked,  though 
I  was  getting  drowsy,  as  if  I  had  been  long  broken  of 
my  sleep. 

"It's  blood,  Jacob!    You've  hurt  yourself!" 

I  drew  my  hand  across  my  mouth,  and  it  came  away 
stained  red.  She  gave  a  cry  of  horror;  but  did  not  lose 
her  presence  of  mind.  She  sponged  the  blood  from  my 
clothes,  wiping  my  mouth  every  little  while,  until  there 
was  no  more  blood  coming  from  it.  Presently  I  dropped 
off  to  sleep  with  my  hand  in  hers.  She  awoke  me  after 
a  while  and  gave  me  some  warm  milk.  As  I  was  drows 
ing  off  again,  she  spoke  very  gently  to  me. 

"Can  you  understand  what  I'm  saying?"  she  asked; 
and  I  nodded  a  yes.  "Do  you  love  her  like  that?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  love  her  like  that." 

Presently  she  lifted  my  hand  to  her  lips  and  kissed 
it.  She  was  quite  calm,  now,  as  if  new  light  had  come  to 
her  in  her  darkness ;  and  I  thought  that  it  was  my  con 
sent  which  had  quieted  her  spirits:  but  I  did  not  under 
stand  her. 

"I  can't  let  you  do  it,  Jacob,"  said  she.  finally.     "It's 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  347 

too  much  to  ask I've  thought  of  another 

way,  my  dear Don't  think  of  me  or  my  troubles 

any  more I'll  be  all  right You  go  on 

loving  her,  an'  bein'  true  to  her and  if  God  is 

good  as  they  say,  He'll  make  you  happy  with  her  some 
time.    Do  you  understand,  Jacob?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "but  what  will  you " 

"Never  mind  about  me,"  said  she  soothingly.  "I've 
thought  of  another  way  out.  You  go  to  sleep,  now,  and 
don't  think  of  me  or  my  troubles  any  more." 

I  lay  looking  at  her  for  a  while,  and  wondering  how 
she  could  suddenly  be  so  quiet  after  her  agitation  of  the 
day ;  and  after  a  while,  the  scene  swam  before  my  eyes, 
and  I  went  off  into  the  refreshing  sleep  of  a  tired  boy. 

The  sun  was  up  when  I  awoke.  Rowena  was  gone.  I 
went  out  and  found  that  she  had  saddled  her  horse  and 
left  sometime  in  the  night ;  afterward  I  found  out 
that  it  was  in  the  gray  of  the  morning.  She  had  watched 
by  my  bedside  all  night,  and  left  only  after  it  was  plain 
that  I  was  breathing  naturally  and  that  my  spasm  had 
passed.  She  had  come  into  my  life  that  day  like  a  tor 
nado,  but  had  left  it  much  as  it  had  been  before,  except 
that  I  wondered  what  was  to  become  of  her.  I  was  com 
forted  by  the  thought  that  she  had  "thought  of  another 
way."  And  it  was  a  long  time  before  the  nobility  of  her 
action  was  plain  to  me ;  but  when  I  realized  it,  I  never 
forgot  it.  I  had  offered  her  all  I  had  when  she  begged 
for  it,  she  had  taken  it,  and  then  restored  it,  as  the  dying 
soldier  gave  the  draught  of  water  to  his  comrade,  say 
ing.  "Thy  necessity  is  greater  than  mine." 

Once  or  twice  I  made  an  effort  to  tell  Magnus  Thork- 
elson  about  this,  as  we  worked  at  our  after-harvest  hay- 


348  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

ing  together  that  week ;  but  it  was  a  hard  thing  to  do. 
Perhaps  it  would  not  be  a  secret  much  longer ;  but  as  yet 
it  was  Rowena's  secret,  not  mine.  I  knew,  too,  that  Mag 
nus  had  been  haunting  Rowena  for  two  years;  that  he 
had  been  making  visits  to  Blue-grass  Manor  often  when 
she  was  there,  without  taking  me  into  his  confidence; 
that  his  excuse  that  he  went  to  help  Sura j  ah  Fewkes 
with  his  inventions  was  not  the  real  reason  for  his  going. 
I  remembered,  too,  that  Rowena  had  always  spoken  well 
of  Magnus,  and  seemed  to  see  what  most  of  us  did  not, 
that  Magnus  was  better  educated  in  the  way  foreigners 
are  taught  than  the  rest  of  us;  and  she  did  not  look 
down  on  him  the  way  we  did  then  on  folks  from  other 
countries.  I  had  no  way  of  knowing  how  they  stood 
toward  each  other,  though  Magnus  had  looked  sad  and 
stopped  talking  lately  whenever  I  had  mentioned  her.  I 
knew  it  would  be  a  shock  to  him  to  learn  of  her  present 
and  coming  trouble;  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  be 
gan  to  put  it  back  into  the  dark  places  in  my  brain  as  if 
it  had  not  happened;  and  when  it  came  to  mind  clearly 
as  it  kept  doing,  I  tried  to  comfort  myself  with  the 
thought  that  Rowena  had  said  that  she  had  thought  of 
another  way  out. 

We  had  frost  early  that  year — a  hard  white  frost 
sometime  about  the  tenth  of  September.  Neither  Mag 
nus  nor  I  had  any  sound  corn,  though  our  wheat,  oats 
and  barley  were  heavy  and  fine;  and  we  had  oceans  of 
hay.  The  frost  killed  the  grass  early,  and  early  in  Octo 
ber  we  had  a  heavy  rain  followed  by  another  freeze,  and 
then  a  long,  calm,  warm  Indian  summer.  The  prairie 
was  covered  with  a  dense  mat  of  dry  grass  which  rustled 
in  the  wind  but  furnished  no  feed  for  our  stock.  It  was 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  349 

a  splendid  fall  for  plowing,  and  I  began  to  feel  hope  re 
turn  to  me  as  I  followed  my  plow  around  and  around  the 
lands  I  laid  off,  and  watched  the  black  ribbon  of  new 
plowing  widen  and  widen  as  the  day  advanced  toward 
night. 

Nothing  is  so  good  a  soil  for  hope  as  new  plowing. 
The  act  of  making  it  is  inspired  by  hope.  The  emblem 
of  hope  should  be  the  plow;  not  the  plow  of  the  Great 
Seal,  but  a  plow  buried  to  the  top  of  the  mold-board  in 
the  soil,  with  the  black  furrow-slice  falling  away  from  it 
— and  for  heaven's  sake,  let  it  fall  to  the  right,  as  it  does 
where  they  do  real  farming,  and  not  to  the  left  as  most 
artists  depict  it!  I  know  some  plows  are  so  made  that 
the  nigh  horse  walks  in  the  furrow,  but  I  have  mighty 
little  respect  for  such  plows  or  the  farms  on  which  they 
are  used. 

My  cattle  strayed  off  in  the  latter  part  of  October ; 
being  tolled  off  in  this  time  between  hay  and  grass  by  the 
green  spears  that  grew  up  in  the  wet  places  in  the  marsh 
and  along  the  creek.  I  got  uneasy  about  them  on  the 
twentieth,  and  went  hunting  them  on  one  of  Magnus 
Thorkelson's  horses.  Magnus  was  away  from  home 
working,  and  had  left  his  team  with  me.  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  would  scout  along  on  my  own  side  of  the 
marsh  until  I  could  cross  below  it,  and  then  work  west, 
looking  from  every  high  place  until  I  found  the  cattle, 
coming  in  away  off  toward  the  Gowdy  tract,  and  cross 
ing  the  creek  above  the  marsh  on  my  way  home.  This 
would  take  me  east  and  west  nearly  twice  across  Vande- 
mark  Township  as  it  was  finally  established. 

I  expected  to  get  back  before  night,  but  when  I  struck 
the  trail  of  the  stock  it  took  me  away  back  into  the  region 


350  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

in  the  north  part  of  the  township  back  of  Vandemark's 
Folly,  as  we  used  to  say,  where  it  was  not  settled,  on  ac 
count  of  the  slew  and  the  distance  from  town,  until  in  the 
'seventies.  Foster  Blake  had  it  to  himself  all  this  time, 
and  ran  a  herd  of  the  neighbors'  stock  there  until  about 
1877,  when  the  Germans  came  in  and  hemmed  him  in 
with  their  improvements,  making-  the  second  great  im 
pulse  in  the  settlement  of  the  township. 


There  was  a  stiff,  dry,  west  wind  blowing,  and  a  blue 
haze  in  the  air.  As  the  afternoon  advanced,  the  sun 
grew  red  as  if  looked  at  through  smoked  glass,  burning 
like  a  great  coal  of  fire  or  a  broad  disk  of  red-hot  iron. 

There  was  a  scent  of  burning  grass  in  the  air  when  I 
found  my  herd  over  on  Section  Eight,  about  where  the 
cooperative  creamery  and  store  now  stand.  The  cattle 
seemed  to  be  uneasy,  and  when  I  started  them  toward 
home,  they  walked  fast,  snuffing  the  air,  and  giving  once 
in  a  while  an  uneasy,  anxious  falsetto  bellow ;  and  now 
and  then  they  would  break  into  a  trot  as  they  drew  nearer 
to  the  places  they  knew.  The  smell  of  smoke  grew 
stronger,  and  I  knew  there  was  a  prairie  fire  burning  to 
the  westward.  The  sun  was  a  deeper  red,  now,  and  once 
in  a  while  almost  disappeared  in  clouds  of  vaporous 
smoke  which  rolled  higher  and  higher  into  the  sky. 
Prairie  chickens,  plover  and  curlew,  with  once  in  a  while 
a  bittern,  went  hurriedly  along  to  the  eastward,  and  sev 
eral  wolves  crossed  our  path,  trotting  along  and  paying 
no  attention  to  me  or  the  cows ;  but  stopping  from  time 
to  time  and  looking  back  as  if  pursued  from  the  west. 

They  were  pursued.     They  were   fleeing  from  the 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  351 

great  prairie  fire  of  1859,  which  swept  Monterey  County 
from  side  to  side,  and  never  stopped  until  it  struck  the 
river  over  in  the  next  county.  I  felt  a  little  uneasy  as  I 
hiked  my  cattle  down  into  the  marsh  on  my  own  land, 
and  saw  them  picking  their  way  across  it  toward  my 
grove,  which  showed  proudly  a  mile  away  across  the  flat. 
I  had  plowed  firebreaks  about  my  buildings  and  stacks, 
and  burned  off  between  the  strips  of  plowing,  but  I  felt 
that  I  ought  to  be  at  home.  So  I  rode  on  at  a  good  trot 
to  make  my  circuit  of  the  marsh  to  the  west.  The  cattle 
could  get  through,  but  a  horse  with  a  man  on  his  back 
might  easily  get  mired  in  Vandemark's  Folly  anywhere 
along  there;  and  my  motto  was,  "The  more  hurry,  the 
less  speed." 

As  I  topped  the  hill  to  get  back  to  the  high  ground,  I 
saw  great  clouds  of  smoke  pouring  into  the  valley  at  the 
west  passage  into  the  big  flat,  and  the  country  to  the 
south  was  hidden  by  the  smoke,  except  where,  away  off 
in  the  southwest  in  the  changing  of  the  wind,  I  could  see 
the  line  of  fire  as  it  came  over  the  high  ground  west  of 
the  old  Bill  Trickey  farm.  It  was  a  broad  belt  of  red 
flames,  from  which  there  crept  along  the  ground  a  great 
blanket  of  smoke,  black  at  first,  and  then  turning  to  blue 
as  it  rose  and  thinned.  I  began  making  haste ;  for  it  now 
looked  as  if  the  fire  might  reach  the  head  of  the  slew 
before  I  could,  and  thus  cut  me  off.  I  felt  in  my  pocket 
for  matches;  for  in  case  of  need,  the  only  way  to  fight 
fire  is  with  fire. 

I  was  not  scared,  for  I  knew  what  to  do;  but  not  a 
mile  from  where  I  saw  the  fire  on  the  hilltop,  a  family 
of  Indiana  movers  were  at  that  moment  smothering  and 
burning  to  death  in  the  storm  of  flames — six  people,  old 


352  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

and  young,  of  the  score  or  more  lost  in  that  fire ;  and 
the  first  deaths  of  white  people  in  Vandemark  Town 
ship.  Their  name  was  Davis,  and  they  came  from  near 
Vincennes,  we  found  out. 

And  within  five  minutes,  as  I  looked  off  to  the  north 
west,  I  saw  a  woman  walking  calmly  toward  the  marsh. 
She  was  a  long  way  off,  and  much  nearer  the  fire  than 
I  was.  I  looked  for  the  wagon  to  which  she  might  be 
long,  but  saw  none,  and  it  took  only  one  more  glance  at 
her  to  show  me  that  she  was  in  mortal  danger.  For  she 
was  walking  slowly  and  laboriously  along  like  a  person 
carrying  a  heavy  burden.  The  smoke  was  getting  so 
thick  that  it  hid  her  from  time  to  time,  and  I  felt,  even  at 
my  distance  from  the  fire,  an  occasional  hot  blast  on  my 
cheek — a  startling  proof  of  the  rapid  march  of  the  great 
oncoming  army  of  flames. 

I  kicked  my  heels  into  the  horse's  flanks  and  pushed 
him  to  a  gallop.  I  must  reach  her  soon,  or  she  would 
be  lost,  for  it  was  plain  that  she  was  paying  no  attention 
to  her  danger.  I  went  down  into  a  hollow,  pounded  up 
the  opposite  hill,  and  over  on  the  next  rise  of  ground  I 
saw  her.  She  was  standing  still,  now,  with  her  face 
turned  to  the  fire:  then  she  walked  deliberately  toward 
it.  I  urged  my  horse  to  a  faster  gait,  swung  my  hat,  and 
yelled  at  her,  but  she  seemed  not  to  hear. 

The  smoke  swept  down  upon  her,  and  when  I 
next  could  see,  she  was  stooped  with  her  shawl  drawn 
around  her  head;  or  was  she  on  her  knees?  Then  she 
rose,  and  turning  from  the  fire,  ran  as  fast  as  she  could, 
until  I  wheeled  my  horse  across  her  path,  jumped  to  the 
ground  and  stopped  her  with  my  arm  about  her  waist. 
I  looked  at  her.  It  was  Rowena  Fewkes. 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  353 

"Rowena,"  I  shouted,  "what  you  doin'  here?  Don't 
you  know  you'll  get  burnt  up  ?" 

"I  couldn't  go  any  closer,"  she  said,  as  if  excusing 
herself.  "Would  it  hurt  much?  I  got  scared,  Jake. 
Oh,  don't  let  me  burn !" 

There  was  no  chance  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  slew 
now,  even  if  I  had  not  been  hampered  with  her.  I  told 
her  to  do  as  she  was  told,  and  not  bother  me.  Then  I 
gave  her  the  horse  to  hold,  and  sternly  ordered  her  not 
to  let  loose  of  him  no  matter  what  he  did. 

I  gathered  a  little  armful  of  dry  grass,  and  lighted  it 
with  a  match  to  the  leeward  of  us.  It  spread  fast,  though 
I  lighted  it  where  the  grass  was  thin  so  as  to  avoid  a  hot 
fire ;  but  on  the  side  toward  the  wind,  where  the  blaze 
was  feeble,  I  carefully  whipped  it  out  with  my  slouch 
hat.  In  a  minute,  or  so,  I  had  a  line  two  or  three  rods 
long,  of  little  blazes,  each  a  circle  of  fire  burning  more 
and  more  fiercely  on  the  leeward  side,  and  more  feebly  on 
the  side  where  the  blaze  was  fanned  away  from  its  fuel. 
This  side  of  each  circle  I  whipped  out  with  my  hat,  some 
of  them  with  difficulty.  Soon,  we  had  a  fierce  fire  rag 
ing,  leaving  in  front  of  us  a  growing  area  of  black  ashes. 

We  were  now  between  two  fires ;  the  great  conflagra 
tion  from  which  we  were  trying  to  protect  ourselves  came 
on  from  the  west  like  a  roaring  tornado,  its  ashes  falling 
all  about  us,  its  hot  breath  beginning  to  scorch  us,  its 
snapping  and  crackling  now  reaching  the  ear  along  with 
its  roar ;  while  on  the  east  was  the  fire  of  my  own  kind 
ling,  growing  in  speed,  racing  off  away  from  us, 
leaving  behind  it  our  haven  of  refuge,  a  tract  swept  clean 
of  food  for  the  flames,  but  hot  and  smoking,  and  as  yet 
all  too  small  to  be  safe,  for  the  heat  and  smoke  might 


354  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

kill  where  the  flames  could  not  reach.  Between  the  two 
fires  was  the  fast  narrowing  strip  of  dry  grass  from 
which  we  must  soon  move.  Our  safety  lay  in  the  fol 
lowing  of  one  fire  to  escape  the  other. 

The  main  army  of  the  flames  coming  on  from  the 
west,  with  its  power  of  suction,  fanned  itself  to  a  faster 
pace  than  our  new  line  could  attain,  and  the  heat  in 
creased,  both  from  the  racing  crimson  line  to  the  west, 
and  the  slower-moving  back-fire  on  the  other  side.  We 
sweltered  and  almost  suffocated.  Rowena  buried  her 
face  in  her  shawl,  and  swayed  as  if  falling.  I  took  her 
by  the  arm,  and  leading  the  excited  horse,  we  moved 
over  into  our  zone  of  safety.  She  was  trembling  like  a 
leaf. 

I  was  a  little  anxious  for  a  few  minutes  for  fear  I  had 
not  started  my  back-fire  soon  enough ;  but  the  fear  soon 
passed.  The  fire  came  on  with  a  swelling  roar.  We  fol 
lowed  our  back-fire  so  close  as  to  be  almost  blistered  by 
it,  coughing,  gasping,  covering  our  mouths  and  nostrils 
in  such  a  heat  and  smother  that  I  could  scarcely  support 
Rowena  and  keep  my  own  footing.  Suddenly  the  heat 
and  smoke  grew  less ;  I  looked  around,  and  saw 
that  the  fire  had  reached  our  burnt  area,  and  the  line  was 
cut  for  lack  of  fuel.  It  divided  as  a  wave  is  split  by  a 
rock,  and  went  in  two  great  moving  spouting  fountains 
of  red  down  the  line  of  our  back-fire,  and  swept  on, 
leaving  us  scorched,  blackened,  bloodshot  of  eye  and  sore 
of  lips,  but  safe.  We  turned,  with  great  relief  to  me  at 
least,  and  made  for  the  open  country  behind  the  lines. 
Then  for  the  first  time,  I  looked  at  Rowena. 

If  I  had  been  surprised  at  the  way  in  which,  consider 
ing  her  trouble,  she  had  kept  her  prettiness  and  gav  ac- 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  355 

tions  when  I  had  last  seen  her,  I  was  shocked  at  the 
change  in  her  now.  The  poor  girl  seemed  to  have  given 
up  all  attempt  to  conceal  her  condition  or  to  care  for  her 
looks.  All  her  rosy  bloom  was  gone.  Her  cheeks  were 
pale  and  puffy,  even  though  emaciated.  Her  limbs  looked 
thin  through  her  disordered  and  torn  clothes.  She  wore 
a  dark-colored  hood  over  her  snarled  hair,  in  which  there 
was  chaff  mixed  with  the  tangles  as  if  she  had  been 
sleeping  in  straw.  She  was  black  with  smoke  and  ashes. 
Her  skirts  were  draggled  as  if  with  repeated  soaking 
with  dew  and  rain.  Her  shoes  were  worn  through  at 
the  toes,  and  through  the  holes  the  bare  toes  stuck  out  of 
openings  in  her  stockings.  While  her  clothes  were  really 
better  than  when  I  had  first  seen  her,  she  had  a  beggarly 
appearance  that,  coupled  with  her  look  of  dejection  and 
misery,  went  to  my  heart — she  was  naturally  so  bright 
and  saucy.  She  looked  like  a  girl  who  had  gone  out 
into  the  weather  and  lived  exposed  to  it  until  she  had 
tanned  and  bleached  and  weathered  and  worn  like  a 
storm-beaten  and  discouraged  bird  with  its  plumage 
soiled  and  soaked  and  its  spirit  broken.  And  over  it  all 
hung  the  cloud  of  impending  maternity — a  cloud  which 
should  display  the  rainbow  of  hope.  But  with  her  there 
was  only  a  lurid  light  which  is  more  awful  than 
darkness. 

I  could  not  talk  with  her.  I  could  only  give  her  di 
rections  and  lend  her  aid.  I  tried  putting  her  on  the 
horse  behind  me,  but  he  would  not  carry  double ;  so  I  put 
her  in  the  saddle  and  walked  by  or  ahead  of  the  horse, 
over  the  blackened  and  ashy  prairie,  lit  up  by  the  red 
glare  of  the  fire,  and  dotted  here  and  there  with  little 
smokes  which  marked  where  there  were  coals,  the  re- 


356  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

mains  of  vegetable  matter  which  burned  more  slowly 
than  the  dry  grass.  She  said  nothing;  but  two  or  three 
times  she  gave  a  distressed  little  moan  as  if  she  were  in 
pain ;  but  this  she  checked  as  if  by  an  effort. 

When  we  reached  the  end  of  the  slew,  we  turned 
south  and  crossed  the  creek  just  above  the  pond  which 
we  called  Plum  Pudd'n'  Pond,  from  the  number  of  bit 
terns  that  lived  there.  It  disappeared  when  I  drained 
the  marsh  in  the  'eighties.  Then,  though,  it  spread  over 
several  acres  of  ground,  the  largest  body  of  water  in 
Monterey  County.  We  splashed  through  the  west  end 
of  it,  and  Rowena  looked  out  over  it  as  it  lay  shining  in 
the  glare  of  the  great  prairie  fire,  which  had  now  swept 
half-way  down  the  marsh,  roaring  like  a  tornado  and 
sending  its  flames  fifty  feet  into  the  air.  I  could  not 
help  thinking  what  my  condition  would  have  been  if  I 
had  tried  to  cross  it  and  been  mired  in  the  bog,  and  like 
any  good  stockman,  I  was  hoping  that  my  cattle  had  got 
safe  across  in  their  rush  for  home  and  safety. 

"What  water  is  that?"  asked  Rowena  as  we  crossed. 

"Plum  Pudd'n'  Pond,"  I  told  her. 

"Is  it  deep?"  she  said. 

"Pretty  deep  in  the  middle." 

"Over  your  head?" 

"Oh,  yes !" 

"I  reckoned  it  was,"  said  she.  "I  was  huntin'  fur  it 
when  you  found  me." 

"That  was  after  you  saw  the  fire,"  I  said. 

"No,"  said  she.    "It  was  before." 

In  my  slow  way  I  pondered  on  why  she  had  been 
hunting  water  over  her  head,  and  sooner  than  is  apt  to 
be  the  case  with  me  I  understood.  The  despair  in  her 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  357 

face  as  she  turned  and  looked  at  the  shining  water  told 
me.  She  had  refused  to  accept  my  offer  to  be  her  pro 
tector,  because  she  saw  how  it  hurt  me ;  but  she  was  now 
ready  to  balance  the  books — if  it  ever  does  that — by  tak 
ing  shelter  in  the  depths  of  the  pool!  And  this  all  for 
the  pleasure  of  that  smiling  scoundrel ! 

"I  hope  God  will  damn  him,"  I  said ;  and  am  ashamed 
of  it  now. 

"What  good  would  that  do?"  said  she  wearily. 
"This  world's  hard  enough,  Jake!" 

3 

We  got  to  my  house,  and  I  helped  her  in.  I  told  her 
to  wait  while  I  went  to  look  at  the  fire  to  see  whether  my 
stacks  were  in  danger,  and  to  put  out  and  feed  the  horse. 
Then  I  went  back,  and  found  her  sitting  where  I  had 
left  her,  and  as  I  went  in  I  heard  again  that  little  moan 
of  pain. 

The  house  was  as  light  as  day,  without  a  lamp. 
The  light  from  the  fire  shone  against  the  western  wall 
of  the  room  almost  as  strong  as  sunlight,  and  as  we  sat 
there  we  could  hear  the  roar  of  the  fire  rising  in  the 
gusts  of  the  wind,  dying  down,  but  with  a  steady  under 
tone,  like  the  wind  in  the  rigging  of  a  ship.  I  got  some 
supper,  and  after  saying  that  she  couldn't  eat,  Rowena 
ate  ravenously. 

She  had  gone  away  from  Blue-grass  Manor,  whipped 
forth  by  Mrs.  Mobley's  abuse,  days  and  days  before, 
living  on  what  she  had  carried  with  her  until  it  was 
gone,  drinking  from  the  brooks  and  runs  of  the  prairie, 
and  then  starving  on  rose-haws,  and  sleeping  in  stacks 
until  I  had  found  her  looking  for  the  pool.  If  people 


358  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

could  only  have  known!  Presently  she  moaned  again, 
and  I  made  her  lie  down  on  the  bed. 

"What  will  you  do  with  me,  Jacob?"  she  asked. 

"We'll  think  about  that  in  the  morning,"  said  I. 

"Maybe  you  can  bury  me  in  the  morning,"  she  said 
after  a  while.  "Oh,  Jake,  I'm  scared,  I'm  scared.  My 
trouble  is  comin'  on!  My  time  is  up,  Jake.  Oh,  what 
shall  I  do!  What  shall  I  do?" 

I  went  out  and  sat  on  the  stoop  and  thought  about 
this.  Finally  I  made  up  my  mind  what  she  really  meant 
by  "her  trouble,"  and  I  went  back  to  her  side.  I  found 
her  moaning  louder  and  more  agonizingly,  now:  and  in 
my  turn  I  had  my  moment  of  panic. 

"Rowena,"  I  said,  "I'm  goin'  out  to  do  something 
that  has  to  be  done.  Will  you  stay  here,  and  not  move 
out  of  this  room  till  I  come  back?" 

"I'll  have  to,"  she  said.  "I  guess  I've  walked  my 
last." 

So  I  went  out  and  saddled  the  fresh  horse,  and 
started  through  that  fiery  night  for  Monterey  Centre. 
The  fire  had  burned  clear  past  the  town,  and  when  I  got 
there  I  saw  what  was  left  of  one  or  two  barns  or  houses 
which  had  caught  fire  from  the  burning  prairie,  still  blaz 
ing  in  heaps  of  embers.  The  village  had  had  a  narrower 
escape  from  the  rain  of  ashes  and  sparks  which  had 
swept  to  the  very  edges  of  the  little  cluster  of  dwell 
ings.  I  rode  to  Doctor  Bliven's  drug  store,  climbed  the 
outside  stairway  which  led  to  his  living-room  above,  and 
knocked.  Mrs.  Bliven  came  to  the  door.  I  explained 
that  I  wanted  the  doctor  at  once  to  come  out  to  my  farm. 

"He's  not  here,"  said  she.     "He  is  dressing  some 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  359 

burns  from  the  fire ;  but  he  must  be  nearly  through.  I'll 
go  after  him." 

I  refused  to  go  in  and  sit  until  she  came  back,'  but 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  stair  on  the  sidewalk.  The  time 
of  waiting  seemed  long,  but  I  suppose  he  came  at  once. 

"Who's  sick,  Jake?"  he  asked. 

"A  girl,"  I  said.    "A  woman." 

"At  your  house?"  asked  he.    "What  is  it?" 

"It's  Rowena  Fewkes,"  said  I. 

"I  thought  they  had  gone  to  Colorado,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"They  said  they  were  leaving  her  behind,"  said  Mrs. 

Bliven.  "They  said Do  you  say  she's  at 

your  house?  Who's  with  her?" 

"No  one,"  said  I.  "She's  alone.  Hurry,  Doctor: 
she  needs  you  bad." 

"Just  a  minute,"  said  he.  "What  seems  to  be  the 
matter  ?  Is  she  very  bad  ?" 

"It's  a  confinement  case,"  said  I.  I  had  been  think 
ing  of  the  proper  word  all  the  way. 

"And  she  alone!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bliven.  "Hurry, 
Doctor!  I'll  get  your  instruments  and  medicine-case, 
and  you  can  hitch  up.  You  stay  here,  Jake.  I  want  to 
speak  to  you." 

She  ran  up-stairs,  and  down  again  in  a  few  seconds, 
with  the  cases,  and  wearing  her  bonnet  and  cloak.  I 
could  hear  the  doctor  running  his  buggy  out  of  the  shed, 
and  speaking  to  his  horses.  She  set  the  cases  down  on 
the  sidewalk,  came  up  to  me,  put  her  hand  on  my  arm 
%nd  spoke. 

"Jake,"  said  she,  "are  you  and  Rowena  married?" 

"Us  married!"  I  exclaimed.    "Why,  no!" 


360  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

"This  is  bad  business,"  said  she.  "I  am  surprised, 
and  there's  no  woman  out  there  with  the  poor  little 
thing?" 

"No,"  I  said;  "as  soon  as  I  could  I  started  for  the 
doctor  because  I  thought  he  was  needed  first.  But  she 
needs  a  woman — a  woman  that  won't  look  down  on  her. 
I  wish — I  wish  I  knew  where  there  was  one !" 

"Jake,"  said  she,  "you've  done  the  fair  thing  by  me, 
and  I'll  stand  by  you,  and  by  her.  I'll  go  to  her  in  her 
trouble.  I'll  go  now  with  the  doctor.  And  when  I  do 
the  fair  thing,  see  that  you  do  the  same.  I'm  not  the  one 
to  throw  the  first  stone,  and  I  won't.  I'm  going  with 
you,  Doctor." 

"What  for?"  said  he. 

"Just  for  the  ride,"  she  said.  "I'll  tell  you  more  as 
we  go." 

They  outstripped  me  on  the  return  trip,  for  my  horse 
was  winded,  and  I  felt  that  there  was  no  place  for  me 
in  what  was  going  on  at  the  farm,  though  what  that  must 
be  was  very  dim  in  my  mind. 

I  let  rny  horse  walk.  The  fire  was  farther  off,  now ; 
but  the  sky,  now  flecked  with  drifting  clouds,  was  red 
with  its  light,  and  the  sight  was  one  which  I  shall  never 
see  again :  which  I  suppose  nobody  will  ever  see  again : 
for  I  do  not  believe  there  will  ever  be  seen  such  an  ex' 
panse  of  grass  as  that  of  Iowa  at  that  time.  I  haV" 
seen  prairie  fires  in  Montana  and  Western  Canada ; 
but  they  do  not  compare  to  the  prairie  fires  of  old  Iowa. 
None  of  these  countries  bears  such  a  coating  of  grass 
as  came  up  from  the  black  soil  of  Iowa;  for  their  cli 
mate  is  drier.  I  can  see  that  sight  as  if  it  were  before 
my  eyes  now.  The  roaring  came  no  longer  to  my  ears 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  361 

as  I  rode  on  through  the  night,  except  faintly  when 
the  breeze,  which  had  died  down,  sprang  up  as  the  fire 
reached  some  swale  covered  with  its  ten-foot  high  saw- 
grass.  Then,  I  could  see  from  the  top  of  some  rising 
ground  the  flames  leap  up,  reach  over,  catch  in  front 
of  the  line,  kindle  a  new  fire,  and  again  be  overleaped 
by  a  new  tongue  of  fire,  so  that  the  whole  line  became 
a  belt  of  flames,  and  appeared  to  be  rolling  along 
in  a  huge  billow  of  fire,  three  or  four  rods  across,  and 
miles  in  length. 

The  advance  was  not  in  a  straight  line.  In  some 
places  for  one  reason  or  another,  the  thickness  or  thin 
ness  of  the  grass,  the  slope  of  the  land,  or  the  varying 
strength  of  the  wind,  the  fire  gained  or  lost  ground.  In 
some  places  great  patches  of  land  were  cut  off  as  islands 
by  the  joining  of  advanced  columns  ahead  of  them,  and 
lay  burning  in  triangles  and  circles  and  hollow  squares 
of  fire,  like  bodies  of  soldiers  falling  behind  and  formed 
to  defend  themselves  against  pursuers.  All  this 
unevenness  of  line,  with  the  varying  surface  of  the  lovely 
Iowa  prairie,  threw  the  fire  into  separate  lines  and  col 
umns  and  detachments  more  and  more  like  burning 
armies  as  they  receded  from  view. 

Sometimes  a  whole  mile  or  so  of  the  line  disappeared 
as  the  fire  burned  down  into  lower  ground;  and  then 
with  a  swirl  of  flame  and  smoke,  the  smoke  luminous 
in  the  glare,  it  moved  magnificently  up  into  sight,  rolling 
like  a  breaker  of  fire  bursting  on  a  reef  of  land,  buried 
the  hillside  in  flame,  and  then  whirled  on  over  the  top,  its 
streamers  flapping  against  the  horizon,  snapping  off 
shreds  of  flame  into  the  air,  as  triumphantly  as  a  human 
army  taking  an  enemy  fort.  Never  again,  never  again! 


362  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

We  went  through  some  hardships,  we  suffered  some  ills 
to  be  pioneers  in  Iowa;  but  I  would  rather  have  my 
grandsons  see  what  I  saw  and  feel  what  I  felt  in  the  con 
quest  of  these  prairies,  than  to  get  up  by  their  radiators, 
step  into  their  baths,  whirl  themselves  away  in  their 
cars,  and  go  to  universities.  I  am  glad  I  had  my  share 
in  those  old,  sweet,  grand,  beautiful  things — the  things 
which  never  can  be  again. 

An  old  man  looks  back  on  things  passed  through  as 
sufferings,  and  feels  a  thrill  when  he  identifies  them  as 
among  the  splendors  of  life.  Can  anything  more  clearly 
prove  the  vanity  of  human  experiences  ?  But  look  at  the 
wonders  which  have  come  out  of  those  days.  My  youth 
has  already  passed  into  a  period  as  legendary  as  the  days 
when  King  Alfred  hid  in  the  swamp  and  was  reproved 
by  the  peasant's  wife  for  burning  the  cakes.  I  have 
lived  on  my  Iowa  farm  from  times  of  bleak  wastes, 
robber  bands,  and  savage  primitiveness,  to  this  day,  when 
my  state  is  almost  as  completely  developed  as  Holland. 
If  I  have  a  pride  in  it,  if  I  look  back  to  those  days  as 
worthy  of  record,  remember  that  I  have  some  excuse. 
There  will  be  no  other  generation  of  human  beings  with 
a  life  so  rich  in  change  and  growth.  And  there  never 
was  such  a  thing  in  all  the  history  of  the  world  before. 

I  knew  then,  dimly,  that  what  I  saw  was  magnificent ; 
but  I  was  more  pleased  with  the  safety  of  my  farmstead 
and  my  stacks  than  with  the  grim  glory  of  the  scene ; 
and  even  as  to  my  own  good  fortune  in  coming  through 
undamaged,  I  was  less  concerned  than  with  the  tragedy 
being  enacted  in  my  house.  I  could  not  see  into  the  future 
for  Rowena,  but  I  felt  that  it  would  be  terrible.  The 
words  "lost,"  "ruined,"  "outcast,"  which  were  always  ap- 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  363 

plied  to  such  as  she  had  become,  ran  through  my  mind  all 
the  time ;  and  yet,  she  seemed  a  better  girl  when  I  talked 
with  her  than  when  she  was  running  over  the  prairie 
like  a  plover  following  old  Tom  and  the  little  clittering 
wagon.  Now  she  seemed  to  have  grown,  to  have  taken 
on  a  sort  of  greatness,  something  which  commanded  my 
respect,  and  almost  my  awe. 

It  was  the  sacredness  of  martyrdom.  I  know  this 
now :  but  then  I  seemed  to  feel  that  I  was  disgracing  my 
self  for  not  loathing  her  as  something  unclean. 

"It's  a  boy!"  said  Doctor  Bliven,  as  I  came  to  the 
house.  "The  mother  ain't  in  very  good  shape.  Seems 
exhausted — exhausted.  She'll  pull  through,  though — • 
she'll  pull  through ;  but  the  baby  is  fat  and  lusty. 
Strange,  how  the  mother  will  give  everything  to  the  off 
spring,  and  bring  it  forth  fat  when  she's  as  thin  as  a  rail 
— thin  as  a  rail.  Mystery  of  nature,  you  know — perpet 
uation  of  the  race.  Instinct,  you  know,  instinct.  This 
girl,  now — had  an  outfit  of  baby  clothes  in  that  bundle 
of  hers — instinct — instinct.  My  wife's  going  to  stay  a 
day  or  so.  I'll  take  her  back  next  time  I  come  out." 

"You  must  'tend  to  her,  Doc,"  said  I.  "I'll  guarantee 
you  your  pay." 

"Very  well,  Jake.  Of  course  you  would — of  course, 
of  course,"  said  he.  "But  between  you  and  me  there 
wouldn't  be  any  trouble  about  pay.  Old  friends,  you 
know ;  old  friends.  Favors  in  the  past.  You've  done 
things  for  me — my  wife,  too.  Fellow  travelers,  you 
know.  Never  call  on  us  for  anything  and  be  refused. 
Be  out  to-morrow.  Ought  to  have  a  woman  here  when 
I  ,eo.  Probably  be  milk  for  the  child  when  it  needs  it; 
but  needs  woman.  Can  get  you  a  mover's  wife's  sister— 


364  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

widow — experienced  with  her  own.  Want  her?  Bring 
her  out  for  you — bring  her  out  to-morrow.  Eh?" 

I  told  him  to  bring  the  widow  out,  and  was  greatly 
relieved.  I  went  to  Magnus's  cabin  that  night  to  sleep, 
leaving  Mrs.  Bliven  with  Rowena.  I  hoped  I  might  not 
have  to  see  Rowena  before  she  went  away ;  for  the  very 
thought  of  seeing  the  girl  with  the  child  embarrassed 
me;  but  on  the  third  day  the  widow — they  afterward 
moved  on  to  the  Fort  Dodge  country — came  to  me,  and 
standing  afar  off  as  if  I  was  infected  with  something 
malignant,  told  me  that  Mrs.  Vandemark  wanted  to  see 
me. 

"She  ain't  Mrs.  Vandemark,"  I  corrected.  "Her  name 
is  Rowena  Fewkes." 

"I  make  it  a  habit,"  said  the  widow,  whose  name  was 
Mrs.  Williams,  "to  speak  in  the  present  tense." 

Whatever  she  may  have  meant  was  a  problem  to  me ; 
but  I  went  in.  Rowena  lay  in  my  bed,  and  beside  her 
was  a  little  bundle  wrapped  in  a  blanket  made  of  one  of 
my  flannel  sheets.  The  women  were  making  free  of  my 
property  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"What  are  you  goin'  to  do  with  me,  Jake  ?"  she  asked 
again,  looking  up  at  me  pleadingly. 

"I'm  goin'  to  keep  you  here  till  you're  able  to  do  for 
yourself,"  I  said.  "Time  enough  to  think  of  that  after 
a  while." 

She  took  my  hand  and  pressed  it,  and  turned  her  face 
to  the  pillow.  Pretty  soon  she  turned  the  blanket  back, 
and  there  lay  the  baby,  red  and  ugly  and  wrinkled. 

"Ain't  he  purty?"  said  she,  her  face  glowing  with 
love.  "Oh,  Jake,  I  thank  God  I  didn't  find  the  pond  be 
fore  you  found  me.  I  didn't  know  very  well  what  I  was 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  365 

doin'.  I'll  have  something  to  love  an'  work  fur,  now.  I 
wonder  if  they'll  let  me  be  a  good  womern.  I  will  be,  in 
spite  of  hell  an'  high  water — f'r  his  sake,  Jake." 


As  I  lay  in  Magnus's  bed  that  night,  I  could  see 
no  way  out  for  her.  She  could  get  work,  I  knew,  for 
there  was  always  work  for  a  woman  in  our  pioneer 
houses.  The  hired  girl  who  went  from  place  to  place 
could  find  employment  most  of  the  time;  but  the  baby 
would  be  an  incumbrance.  It  would  be  a  thing  that  the 
eye  of  censure  could  not  ignore,  like  the  scarlet  "A"  on 
the  breast  of  the  girl  in  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's  story. 
I  could  not  foresee  how  the  thing  would  work  out,  and 
lay  awake  pondering  on  it  until  after  midnight,  and  I 
had  hardly  fallen  asleep,  it  seemed  to  me,  when  the  door 
was  opened,  and  in  came  Magnus.  He  had  finished  his 
job  and  come  back. 

"You  hare,  Yake  ?"  he  said,  in  his  quiet  and  unmoved 
way.  "I'm  glad.  Your  house  bane  burn  up  in  fire?" 

I  told  him  the  startling  news,  and  as  the  story  of  poor 
Rowena  slowly  made  its  way  into  his  mind,  I  was 
startled  and  astonished  at  its  effect  on  him;  for  he  has 
always  been  to  me  a  man  who  would  be  calm  in  a  tor 
nado,  and  who  would  meet  shipwreck  or  earthquake 
without  a  tremor.  I  have  seen  him  standing  in  his  place 
in  the  ranks  with  his  comrades  falling  all  about  loading 
and  firing  his  musket,  with  no  more  change  in  his  ex 
pression  than  a  cold  light  of  battle  in  his  mild  buttermilk 
eyes.  I  have  seen  him  wipe  from  his  face  the  blood  of  a 
fellow-soldier  spattered  on  him  by  a  fragment  of  shell, 
as  if  it  had  been  a  splash  of  water  from  a  puddle.  But 


366  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

now,  he  trembled.  He  turned  pale.  He  raged  up  and 
down  the  little  room  with  his  hands  doubled  into  fists 
and  beating  the  air.  He  bit  down  upon  his  Norwegian 
words  with  clenched  teeth.  I  was  afraid  to  talk  to  him 
at  last.  Finally,  he  turned  to  me  and  said : 

"Ay  know  de  man!  So  it  vas  in  de  ol'  country! 
Rich  fallar  bane  t'inking  poor  girl  netting  but  like  fresh 
fruit  for  him  to  eat ;  a  cup  of  vine  for  him  to  drink ;  an' 
he  drink  it!  He  eat  de  fruit.  But  dis  bane  different 
country.  Ay  keel  dis  damned  Gowdy !  You  hare,  Yake  ? 
Ay  keel  him !" 

Of  course  I  told  him  that  this  would  never  do,  and 
talked  the  way  we  all  do  when  it  is  our  duty  to  keep  a 
friend  from  ruining  himself.  He  sat  down  while  I  was 
talking,  and  as  far  as  I  could  see  heard  never  a  word  of 
what  I  said.  Finally  I  talked  myself  out,  and  still  he 
sat  there  as  silent  as  a  statue. 

"Ay — tank — Ay — take — a — valk,"  he  said  at  last,  in 
the  jerky  way  of  the  Norwegian ;  and  he  went  out  into  the 
night. 

I  lay  back  expecting  that  he  would  come  in  pretty 
soon,  when  I  had  more  of  which  I  had  thought  to 
talk  to  him  about ;  but  I  went  to  sleep,  and  having  been 
a  good  deal  broken  of  my  rest,  I  slept  late.  He  was  still 
absent  when  I  woke  up.  When  I  got  to  my  place,  the 
widow  told  me  that  he  had  been  there  and  had  a  long 
talk  with  Rowena,  and  had  hitched  up  his  team  anc 
driven  away. 

Rowena  was  asleep  when  I  looked  in,  and  I  weni 
out  to  plow.  If  Magnus  had  gone  to  kill  Buck  Gowdy 
there  was  nothing  I  could  do  to  prevent  it.  A< 
a  matter  of  fact,  I  approved  of  his  impulse.  I  had  fel 


ROWENA'S  WAY  OUT  367 

it  myself,  though  not  with  any  such  wrathful  bitterness. 
I  had  known  for  a  long  time  that  Magnus  had  a  tender 
ness  toward  Rowena;  but  he  was  such  a  gentle  fellow, 
and  seemed  to  be  so  slow  in  approaching  her,  with  his 
fooling  with  Surajah's  inventions  and  the  like,  that  I  set 
down  his  feeling  as  a  sort  of  sheepish  drawing  toward 
her  which  never  would  amount  to  anything.  But  now  I 
saw  that  his  rage  against  Gowdy  was  of  the  kind  that 
overpowered  him,  stolid  as  he  had  always  seemed.  It 
rose  above  mine  in  proportion  to  the  passion  he  must 
have  felt  for  her,  when  she  was  a  girl  that  a  man  could 
take  for  a  wife.  I  pitied  him ;  and  I  did  not  envy  Buck 
Gowdy,  if  it  chanced  that  they  should  come  together 
while  Magnus's  white-hot  anger  was  burning;  but  I 
rather  hoped  they  would  meet.  I  did  not  believe  that  in 
any  just  court  Magnus  would  be  punished  if  he  supplied 
the  lack  in  the  law. 

When  I  turned  out  at  noon,  I  saw  Magnus's  team, 
and  a  horse  hitched  to  a  buggy  tied  to  my  corn-crib ;  and 
when  I  went  into  the  house,  I  half  expected  to  find  Jim 
Boyd,  the  sheriff,  there  to  arrest  Magnus  Thorkelson  for 
murder,  at  the  bedside  of  Magnus's  lady-love.  I  could 
imagine  how  N.  V.  Creede,  whom  I  had  already  resolved 
I  would  retain  to  defend  Magnus,  would  thrill  the  jury 
in  his  closing  speech  for  the  prisoner  as  the  bar. 

What  I  found  was  Elder  Thorndyke  and  grandma  and 
the  widow,  all  standing  by  Rowena's  bed.  The  widow 
was  holding  the  baby  in  her  arms,  but  as  I  came  in  she 
laid  it  in  a  chair  and  covered  it  up,  as  much  as  to  indi 
cate  that  on  this  occasion  the  less  seen  of  the  infant  the 
better.  Magnus  was  holding  Rowena's  hand,  and  the  el 
der  was  standing  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed  holding  a 


368  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

book.  Grandma  Thorndyke  stood  at  the  bed's  foot  look 
ing  severely  at  a  Hostetter's  Almanac  I  had  hanging  on 
the  head-board.  The  widow  was  twittering  around  from 
place  to  place.  When  I  came  in,  Magnus  motioned  me 
to  stand  beside  him,  and  as  I  took  my  place  handed  me  a 
gold  ring.  Rowena  looked  up  at  me  piteously,  as  if  to 
ask  forgiveness.  Sometime  during  the  ceremony  we  had 
the  usual  hitch  over  the  ring,  for  I  had  put  it  in  my 
trousers  pocket  and  had  to  find  it  so  that  Magnus  could 
put  it  on  Rowena's  finger.  I  had  never  seen  a  marriage 
ceremony,  and  was  at  my  wit's  end  to  know  what  we 
were  doing,  thinking  sometimes  that  it  was  a  wedding, 
and  sometimes  that  it  might  be  something  like  extreme 
unction;  when  at  last  the  elder  said,  "I  pronounce  you 
man  and  wife!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON 

NOW  I  leave  it  to  the  reader — if  I  ever  have  one 
besides  my  granddaughter  Gertrude — whether  in 
this  case  of  the  trouble  of  Rowena  Fewkes  and  her  mar 
riage  to  Magnus  Thorkelson,  I  did  anything  by  which  I 
ought  to  have  forfeited  the  esteem  of  my  neighbors,  of 
the  Reverend  and  Mrs.  Thorndyke,  or  of  Virginia  Royall. 
I  never  in  all  my  life  acted  in  a  manner  which  was  more 
in  accordance  to  the  dictates  of  my  conscience.  You 
have  seen  how  badly  I  behaved,  or  tended  to  behave  in 
the  past,  and  lost  no  friends  by  it  In  a  long  life  of 
dealing  in  various  kinds  of  property,  including  horse- 
trading,  very  few  people  have  ever  got  the  best  of  me, 
and  everybody  knows  that  this  is  less  a  boast  than  a 
confession ;  and  yet,  this  one  good  act  of  standing  by  this 
poor  girl  in  her  dreadful  plight  degraded  me  more  in  the 
minds  of  the  community  than  all  the  spavins,  thorough- 
pins,  poll-evils  and  the  like  I  ever  concealed  or  glossed 
over.  We  are  all  schoolboys  who  usually  suffer  our 
whippings  for  things  that  should  be  overlooked ;  and  the 
fact  that  we  get  off  scot  free  when  we  should  have  our 
jackets  tanned  does  not  seem  to  make  the  injustice  any 
easier  to  bear. 

Dick  McGill,  the  editor  of  the  scurrilous  Monterey 
Journal  was,  as  usual,  the  chief  imp  of  this  as  of  any 

369 


370  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

other  deviltry  his  sensational  paper  could  take  a  part  in. 
Of  course,  he  would  be  on  Buck  Gowdy's  side ;  for  what 
•rights  had  such  people  as  Magnus  and  Rowena  and  I? 
"A  wedding  took  place  out  on  the  wild  shores  of  Hell 
Slew  last  week,"  said  this  paper.  "It  was  not  a  case, 
exactly,  of  the  funeral  baked  meats  coldly  furnishing 
forth  the  marriage  supper;  but  the  economy  was  quite 
as  striking.  The  celebration  of  the  arrival  of  the  heir 
of  the  Manor  (though  let  us  hope  not  of  the  manner) 
was  merged  in  the  wedding  festivities.  We  make  our 
usual  announcements :  Married  at  the  residence  of  J.  T. 
Vandemark,  Miss  Rowena  Fewkes  to  Mr.  Magnus 
Thorkelson.  It's  a  boy,  standard  weight.  The  cere 
monies  were  presided  over  by  Doctor  Bliven,  our  genial 
disciple  of  Esculapias,  and  by  Elder  Thorndyke,  each  in 
his  respective  sphere  of  action.  Great  harmony  marked 
the  carrying  out  of  these  usually  separate  functions.  The 
amalgamation  of  peoples  goes  on  apace.  Here  we  have 
Yankee,  Scandinavian  and  Dutch  so  intertwined  that  it 
will  take  no  common  'glance  of  eye,  thought  of  man,  wing 
of  angel'  to  separate  the  sheep  from  the  goats  in  the 
sequel.  Nuff  ced" 

He  little  knew  the  sequel ! 

I  did  not  read  this  paper.  In  fact,  I  did  not  read  any 
thing  in  those  days;  and  I  do  not  believe  that  Magnus 
and  Rowena  knew  for  some  time  anything  more  about 
this  vile  and  slanderous  item  than  I  did.  It  was  only  by 
the  way  we  were  treated  that  we  felt  that  the  cold 
shoulder  of  the  little  world  of  Vandemark  Township  and 
Monterey  County  was  turned  toward  us.  Of  course  Mag 
nus  and  Rowena  expected  this;  but  I  was  hurt  more 
deeply  by  this  injustice  than  by  anything  in  my  whole 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      371 

life.  Grandma  Thorndyke  came  out  no  more  to  red  up 
my  house,  and  exhibit  her  samples  of  prospective  wives 
to  me.  The  neighbors  called  no  more.  I  began  driving 
over  to  the  new  railroad  to  do  my  marketing,  though  it 
was  twice  as  close  to  go  to  Monterey  Centre.  When 
Elder  Thorndyke,  largely  through  the  contributions  of 
Governor  Wade  and  Buckner  Gowdy,  succeeded  in  get 
ting  his  church  built,  I  was  not  asked  to  go  to  the  doings 
of  laying  the  corner-stone  or  shingling  the  steeple.  I 
was  an  outsider. 

I  quit  trying  to  neighbor  with  the  Roebucks, 
Smiths,  and  George  Story,  my  new  neighbors  on 
the  south ;  and  took  up  with  some  French  who  moved  in 
on  the  east,  the  families  of  Pierre  Lacroix  and  Napoleon 
B.  Bouchard.  We  called  the  one  "Pete  Lackwire"  and 
the  other  "Poly  Busher."  They  were  the  only  French 
people  who  came  into  the  township.  They  were  good 
neighbors,  and  fair  farmers,  and  their  daughters  made 
some  of  the  best  wives  the  sons  of  the  rest  of  us  got. 
One  of  my  grandsons  married  the  prettiest  girl  among 
their  grandchildren — a  Lacroix  on  one  side  and  a  Bouch 
ard  on  the  other. 

It  may  well  be  understood  that  I  now  took  no  part  in 
the  township  history,  which  gets  more  complex  with  the 
coming  in  of  more  settlers ;  but  it  was  about  this  time 
that  what  is  now  Vandemark  Township  began  agitating 
for  a  separate  township  organization.  We  were  attached 
to  Centre  Township,  in  which  was  situated  the  town  of 
Monterey  Centre.  This  town,  dominated  by  the  County 
Ring,  clung  to  all  the  territory  it  could  control,  so  as 
to  spend  the  taxes  in  building  up  the  town.  A  great 
four-room  schoolhouse  was  finished  in  the  summer  of 


372  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

1860;  most  of  it  built  by  taxes  paid  by  the  speculators 
who  still  owned  the  bulk  of  the  land. 

The  Vandemark  Township  people  made  a  great  out 
cry  about  the  shape  of  Centre  Township,  and  called  it 
"The  Great  Crane,"  with  our  township  as  the  neck,  and 
a  lot  of  other  territory  back  of  us  for  the  body,  and 
Monterey  Centre  for  the  head.  I  took  no  part  in  this 
agitation,  for  I  was  burning  with  a  sense  of  indignation 
at  the  way  people  treated  me;  but  the  County  Ring 
compromised  by  building  us  a  schoolhouse  on  my  south 
west  corner,  now  known  as  the  Vandemark  School. 
But  I  cared  nothing  about  this.  I  had  no  children  to 
go  to  school,  and  while  I  never  ceased  to  dream  of  a 
future  with  Virginia  as  my  wife,  I  kept  saying  to 
myself  that  I  never  should  have  a  family.  Consistency 
is  the  least  of  the  necessaries  of  our  visions  and  dreams. 
I  never  tried  to  see  Virginia.  I  avoided  the  elder  and 
Grandma  Thorndyke.  I  knew  that  she  was  disgusted 
with  me  for  even  an  innocent  connection  with  the  Thor- 
kelson  matter,  and  I  supposed  that  Virginia  felt  the  same 
way.  So  I  went  on  trying  to  be  as  near  to  a  hermit  as 
I  could. 

2 

I  know  now  that  things  began  to  change  for  me  in 
the  minds  of  the  people  when  Rowena's  baby  was  chris 
tened.  This  took  place  early  in  the  winter.  Magnus 
asked  me  to  go  to  the  church;  so  I  was  present  when 
Magnus  and  Rowena  stood  before  the  altar  in  a  cere 
mony  which  Rowena  would  have  given  anything  to 
escape,  and  Magnus,  too,  but  he  believed  that  the  child's 
soul  could  not  be  saved  if  it  died  unchristened,  and  she 
yielded  to  his  urgings  in  the  matter.  He  held  his  head 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      373 

high  as  he  stood  by  her,  as  he  always  stood  in  every  rela 
tion  in  life,  witnessing  before  God  and  man  that  he 
believed  her  a  victim,  and  that  whatever  guilt  she  may 
have  incurred,  she  had  paid  for  it  in  full.  After  the 
responses  had  been  made,  Elder  Thorndyke  unfolded  a 
paper  which  had  been  handed  him  with  the  name  of  the 
child  on  it;  then  he  went  on  with  his  part  of  the  cere 
mony:  "In  the  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the 

Holy  Ghost,  I  baptize  thee "  And  then  he  carried  on 

a  whispered  conversation  with  the  mother,  gave  the  loud 
est  honk  I  ever  heard  him  utter,  and  went  on :  "I  baptize 
thee,  Owen  Love  joy  Gowdy." 

They  said  that  Gowdy  swore  when  he  heard  of  this, 
and  exclaimed,  "I  don't  care  about  her  picking  me  out; 
but  I  hate  to  be  joined  with  that  damned  Black  Aboli 
tionist." 

The  elder  seemed  dazed  after  he  had  done  the  deed, 
and  looked  around  at  the  new  church  building  as  if  won 
dering  whether  he  had  not  committed  some  sort  of  crime 
in  thus  offending  a  man  who  had  put  so  much  money  in 
it.  He  had  not,  however ;  for  in  advertising  in  this  way 
Gowdy's  wrong  to  one  girl,  he  ended  forever  his  sly  ap 
proaches,  under  the  excuses  of  getting  her  some  fictitious 
property,  saving  his  soul,  and  the  like,  to  another. 

I  think  it  was  the  word  of  what  Gowdy  said  about  the 
christening  that  finally  wrought  Magnus  up  to  the  act  he 
had  all  along  resolved  upon,  the  attempt  on  Gowdy's  life. 
He  armed  himself  and  went  over  to  the  Blue-grass  Manor 
looking  for  Buck;  but  found  that  his  man  had  gone  to 
Kentucky.  Magnus  left  word  for  Gowdy  to  go  armed 
and  be  prepared  to  protect  himself,  and  went  home.  He 
said  nothing  to  me  about  this ;  but  the  next  spring  when 


374  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Gowdy  came  back,  Magnus  started  after  him  again  with 
a  gun  loaded  with  buckshot,  and  Gowdy,  who,  I  suppose, 
looked  upon  Magnus  as  beneath  him,  had  him  arrested.  I 
went  to  Monterey  Centre  and  put  my  name  on  Magnus's 
bond  when  he  was  bound  over  to  keep  the  peace. 

I  hinted  to  Magnus  that  he  needn't  mind  about  the 
bond  if  he  still  believed  in  his  heart  that  Gowdy  needed 
killing;  but  Rowena  pleaded  with  him  not  to  ruin  him 
self,  me  and  her  by  pursuing  his  plan  of  executing  what 
both  he  and  I  believed  to  be  justice  on  a  man  who  had 
forfeited  his  life  by  every  rule  of  right.  This  lapse  into 
lawlessness  on  his  part  and  mine  can  not  be  justified,  of 
course.  It  is  set  forth  here  as  a  part  of  the  history  of  the 
place  and  the  time. 

I  am  not  equipped  to  write  the  history  of  the  celebrated 
Gowdy  Case,  which  grew  out  of  these  obscure  circum 
stances  in  the  lives  of  a  group  of  pioneers  in  an  Iowa 
township.  Probably  the  writers  of  history  will  never  set 
it  down.  Yet,  it  swayed  the  destiny  of  the  county  and 
the  state  in  after  years,  when  Gowdy  had  died  and  left  his 
millions  to  be  fought  over  in  courts,  in  caucuses,  in  con 
ventions,  state  and  county.  If  it  does  not  go  into  the  his 
tories,  the  histories  will  not  tell  the  truth.  If  great  law 
firms,  governors,  judges,  congressmen  and  senators,  lob 
byists  and  manipulators,  are  not  judged  in  the  light  of  the 
secret  as  well  as  the  surface  influence  of  the  Gowdy 
Case,  they  will  not  be  rightly  judged. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  influence  of  the  loss  of 
the  county  funds  by  Judge  Stone.  Who  was  guilty? 
Was  the  plan  to  have  the  bag  of  "treasure"  stolen  from 
us  by  the  Bunker  gang  a  part  of  the  scheme  of  whoever 
took  the  money?  Did  the  Bushyagers  know  about  the 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      375 

satchel?     Did  they  know  it  was  full  of  salt  instead  of 
money  ?    Of  course  not,  if  they  were  in  the  thing. 

Did  some  one  mean  to  fix  it  so  the  Bunkers  would  rob 
us  of  the  satchel  and  thus  let  everybody  off?  And  if  so, 
what  about  me?  I  should  have  had  to  fight  for  the 
money,  for  that  was  what  I  was  hired  for.  Was  I  to  be 
killed  to  save  Judge  Stone,  or  Governor  Wade,  and  if  so, 
which  ? 

My  part  in  the  affair  was  never  much  spoken  of  in 
the  hot  newspaper  and  stump-speech  quarrels  over  the 
matter ;  but  after  a  while,  when  I  had  had  time  to  figure 
it  all  out,  I  began  to  think  I  had  not  been  treated  quite 
right;  but  what  was  I  anyhow?  This  was  another  thing 
that  made  me  sore  at  all  the  Monterey  Centre  crowd,  in 
cluding  the  elder  and  grandma,  with  their  truckling  to 
Gowdy  and  Wade  and  Stone  and  the  rest  who  helped  the 
elder  build  his  church.  I  suppose  that  the  stolen  money, 
some  of  it,  went  to  pay  for  that  church ;  but  if  every 
church  had  remained  unbuilt  that  has  stolen  money  in  it, 
there  would  be  fewer  temples  pointing,  as  the  old  song 
says,  with  taper  spire  to  heaven,  wouldn't  there? 

Of  course  these  scandalous  matters  were  soon  lost 
sight  of  in  the  excitement  of  the  Civil  War.  This  thing 
which  changed  all  our  lives  the  way  war  does,  came  upon 
me  like  a  clap  of  thunder.  I  was  living  like  a  hermit,  and 
working  like  a  horse,  not  trying  to  make  any  splurge,  as 
I  might  have  done,  even  having  given  up  the  idea  of 
getting  me  a  team  of  horses,  which  I  had  been  think 
ing  of  for  a  while  back  with  the  notion  of  maybe  getting 
a  buggy  and  beginning  to  take  Virginia  out  buggy-riding, 
and  thus  working  up  in  a  year  or  two  to  popping  the  ques 
tion  to  her.  But  now  I  sulked  in  mv  cabin. 


376  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

3 

I  guess  the  war  surprised  the  people  who  read  about 
it  as  much  as  it  did  me.  I  often  thought  of  the  poor  slaves, 
and  liked  Dunlap  and  Thatcher,  the  men  I  had  run  into 
back  in  Wisconsin  on  the  road  in  1855,  for  going  down 
into  Kansas  to  fight  for  Free  Soil ;  but  as  for  fighting  in 
which  I  should  have  any  interest;  bless  you,  it  never 
occurred  to  any  of  us,  either  North  or  South.  The  trou 
ble  was  always  going  to  be  off  somewhere  else.  I  guess 
that's  the  way  with  the  oncoming  of  wars.  If  we  knew 
they  would  come  to  us,  we'd  be  less  blood-thirsty. 

I  heard  of  the  Dred  Scott  Decision,  and  thought  J.  P. 
Roebuck  was  talking  foolishness  when  he  came  to  me  one 
day  over  in  my  back  field  to  borrow  a  chew  of  tobacco — 
he  was  always  doing  that — and  said  that  this  decision 
made  slavery  a  general  thing  all  over  the  Union.  I  didn't 
see  any  slavery  around  Vandemark  Township,  and  no 
signs  of  any.  I  heard  of  Old  John  Brown,  and  had  a 
hazy  idea  that  he  was  some  kind  of  traitor  who  ought  to 
have  been  hanged,  or  the  government  wouldn't  have 
hanged  him.  You  see  how  inconsistent  I  was.  But  wars 
are  fought  by  inconsistent  men  who  suffer  and  die  for 
other  people's  ideas:  don't  you  think  so?  Abraham  Lin 
coln  was  nominated  about  corn-planting  time ;  but  I  was 
not  thrilled.  I  had  never  heard  of  him.  The  nation  was 
drifting  down  the  rapids  to  the  falls;  and  for  all  the 
deafening  roar  that  came  to  our  ears,  we  did  not  know 
or  think  of  the  cataract  we  were  to  be  swept  over. 

I  was  a  voter  now,  and  so  was  Magnus ;  but  he  was 
for  Lincoln,  and  I  was  not.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
Republican  Party  was  too  new.  And  yet  I  was  not  sat 
isfied  with  Douglas.  Why?  It  was  merely  because  I 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      377 

had  got  it  into  my  mind  that  he  had  been  beaten  in  a 
debate  by  Lincoln,  and  it  seemed  that  this  defeat  ought  to 
put  him  out  of  the  running  for  president.  I  sat  down  a 
few  rods  from  the  polls  and  thought  over  the  matter  of 
choosing  between  Edward  Everett  and  John  C.  Brecken- 
ridge,  pestered  by  Governor  Wade  and  H.  L.  Burns  and 
N.  V.  and  the  rest,  until  finally  they  left  me  and  when  I 
had  made  my  decision,  I  found  that  the  polls  had  closed. 
I  was  a  good  deal  relieved. 

I  am  giving  you  a  glimpse  into  the  mind  of  a  con 
scientious  and  ignorant  voter.  If  I  had  read  more, 
my  mind  would  have  been  made  up  beforehand,  but 
by  some  one  else.  I  was  not  a  fool ;  I  was  just  slow  and 
bewildered.  The  average  voter  shoots  at  the  flock 
and  gets  it  over  with.  He  has  had  his  mind  made  up 
for  him  by  some  one — and  maybe  it's  just  as  well: 
for  when  he  tries,  as  I  did,  to  make  it  up  for  him 
self,  he  is  apt  to  find  that  he  has  no  basis  for  judgment. 
That  is  why  all  governments,  free  and  the  other  kind,  have 
always  been  minority  governments,  and  always  will  be. 
And  I  reckon  that's  just  as  well,  too. 

Lincoln's  first  call  for  volunteers  took  only  a  few 
men  out  of  the  county,  and  none  from  Vandemark  Town 
ship,  except  George  Story.  I  had  not  begun  to  take  much 
interest  in  the  matter ;  and  when  in  tne  summer  of  1861 
there  began  to  be  war  meetings  to  spur  up  young  men  to 
enlistment  the  speakers  all  shouted  to  us  that  the  war  was 
not  to  free  the  slaves,  but  to  save  the  Union.  Now  this 
was  a  new  slant  on  the  question,  and  I  had  to  think  over 
it  for  a  while. 

Sitting  in  the  wagon  of  history  with  my  feet  dangling 
down  and  facing  the  rear,  as  we  all  ride,  I  can  now  see 


378  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

that  the  thing  was  as  broad  as  it  was  long.  The  Union 
could  not  be  preserved  without  freeing  the  slaves,  for  all 
of  what  Lincoln  said  when  he  stated  that  he  would  save 
the  Union  by  freeing  the  slaves  if  he  could  do  that,  or  by 
keeping  them  slaves  if  he  could  do  that,  or  by  freeing 
some  of  them  and  leaving  the  rest  in  servitude  if  he 
could  do  that;  but  that  save  the  Union  he  would.  Now 
in  my  narrow  way,  I  could  see  some  point  in  freeing  the 
slaves,  but  as  for  the  Union,  I  hardly  knew  whether  it 
was  important  or  not.  I  needed  to  think  it  over.  It 
might  be  just  as  well  not  to  fight  to  preserve  the  Union ; 
and  when  I  had  heard  men  say,  "I  enlisted  to  save  the 
Union,  and  not  to  free  niggers,"  as  a  lot  of  them  did,  I 
scratched  my  head  and  wondered  why  I  could  not  feel 
so  devoted  to  the  Union  as  they  did.  Looking  back  from 
the  tail-end  of  the  wagon,  I  now  see  what  Lincoln  meant 
by  the  importance  of  keeping  us  all  under  one  flag;  but 
I  didn't  know  then,  and  I  don't  believe  one  man  in  a 
hundred  who  shouted  for  the  Union  knew  why  the  Union 
was  so  important.  There  never  was  a  better  cause  than 
the  one  we  sung  for  in  "The  Union,  the  Union  forever !" 
but  thousands  and  thousands  sang  and  shouted  it,  and 
died  for  it — how  bravely  and  wonderfully  they  died  for 
it ! — who  knew  as  little  what  it  meant  as  I  did.  And  the 
rebels — how  gallantly  they  died  for  their  cause,  too.  Not 
for  slavery,  as  we  blindly  thought,  misjudging  them  as 
we  must  always  misjudge  our  foes  (or  we  should  not 
have  the  hate  in  our  hearts  to  fight  them)  ;  but  for  the 
very  thing  we  were  fighting  for — liberty,  as  they  believed. 

Both  sides  are  always  right  in  war. 

I  finally  began  to  see  light  when  I  thought  one  night 
of  my  old  life  on  the  canal,  and  asked  myself  how  it 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      379 

would  affect  us  in  Iowa  if  York  State  and  the  East 
should  secede,  as  the  South  was  trying  to  do.  It  would 
put  them  in  shape  to  starve  us  of  the  West  by  levying 
duties  on  our  crops  when  going  to  market.  But,  said  I  to 
myself,  we  could  then  ship  down  the  Mississippi ;  but  the 
river  was  already  closed  and  would  always  be  controlled 
by  the  Confederacy.  This  was  serious ;  but  when  I  said 
to  myself  that  the  East  would  never  secede,  the  question, 
Why  not  ?  could  not  be  answered  if  the  principle  of  seces 
sion  could  once  be  set  up  as  correct  and  made  good  by 
victory.  Then,  it  came  into  my  mind  after  a  month  or 
two  of  thinking,  that  any  state  or  group  of  states  could 
secede  whenever  they  liked ;  that  others  would  go  to  war 
with  them  to  keep  such  unions  as  were  left ;  and  we 
should  never  be  at  peace  long :  so  after  all,  the  Union  was 
important,  and  must  be  preserved. 

The  question  must  be  settled  now  in  this  war. 

But  I  don't  know  how  long  I  should  have  studied  this 
matter  over  in  my  lonely  benightedness,  if  I  had  not  seen 
Virginia  one  night  at  a  war  meeting  that  I  sneaked  into 
in  the  Centre,  with  a  young  man  dressed  in  store  clothes 
whom  I  afterward  knew  as  Will  Lockwood,  the  principal 
of  the  Monterey  Centre  school,  who  seemingly  was  going 
forward  to  put  his  name  down  as  enlisted.  I  jumped  in 
ahead  of  him,  so  as  to  show  Virginia  that  her  fellow  was 
not  the  only  patriot,  and  beat  him  to  it. 

"So  you  are  going  to  fight  Kaintucky  ?"  said  she  to  me 
as  if  I  had  engaged  to  ruin  everything  she  held  dear. 

"We  must  save  the  Union,"  I  said.  "I  didn't  think 
of  you  being  on  the  other  side !" 

"Mr.  Lockwood,"  said  she,  "this  is  Teunis  Vande- 


380  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

mark,  an  old  friend  of  mine.     He's  going  to  fight  my 
friends,  too." 

In  two  or  three  minutes  I  found  that  he  was  from 
Herkimer  County,  had  lived  along  the  Erie s  Canal, 
and  was  actually  the  son  of  my  old  teacher  Lockwood, 
to  whom  I  had  gone  when  I  was  wintering  with  Mrs. 
Fogg  in  the  old  canalling  days.  He  was  my  best  friend 
during  all  my  service  as  a  soldier — which  you  will  soon 
see  was  not  long.  We  left  him  on  the  field  at  Shiloh. 


The  recruiting  officer  got  us  uniforms — or  somebody 
did ;  and  during  the  nice  weather — it  was  October  when  I 
enlisted — our  company  did  some  drilling.  We  had  no 
arms,  but  used  shotguns,  squirrel  rifles,  and  even  sticks. 
Will  Lockwood  tried  to  drill  us,  but  made  a  bad  mess 
of  it.  Then  one  day  Buckner  Gowdy,  who  had  also 
enlisted,  took  charge  of  a  squad  of  men  and  in  ten  minutes 
showed  that  he  knew  more  about  drill  than  any  one  else 
in  the  county.  He  had  been  educated  at  a  military  school 
in  Virginia. 

All  the  skill  in  drill  that  we  ever  got,  we  owed  to 
him.  The  sharp  word  of  command;  the  quick  swing 
to  the  proper  position ;  the  snappy  step ;  everything  that 
we  knew  more  than  a  lot  of  yokels  might  be  expected 
to  know,  we  got  from  Buck  Gowdy.  Magnus  ad 
mitted  it,  even;  but  he  turned  pale  whenever  he  was  in 
a  squad  under  Gowdy's  command.  It  was  gall  and  worm 
wood  for  me,  and  worse  for  him;  but  when  it  came  to 
electing  a  captain  of  our  company,  I  voted  for  Gowdy, 
and  under  the  same  conditions  would  do  it  again.  It  was 
better  to  have  a  real  captain  who  was  a  scoundrel,  than  a 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      381 

man  who  knew  nothing  but  kept  the  Commandments. 
War  is  hell  in  more  than  one  respect.  I  felt  that  Gowdy 
would  be  more  likely  to  bring  us  safe  out  of  any  bad 
hole  in  which  we  might  find  ourselves,  than  any  one 
else.  But  I  was  glad,  sometimes,  when  he  was  rawhiding 
us  into  shape,  that  Magnus  Thorkelson  was  drilling  with 
a  wooden  gun.  I  wondered  how  the  new  captain  himself 
felt  about  this. 

Governor  Wade  gave  us  a  great  entertainment  at  his 
farm  just  before  we  marched — still  without  guns — to  the 
railroad  to  take  the  cars  for  Dubuque,  where  boats  were 
supposed  to  be  waiting  to  take  us  down  the  river — if  we 
could  make  it  before  navigation  was  closed  by  the  ice. 
His  great  barns  were  cleared  out  for  tables,  and  the  house 
was  4pen,  and  there  were  flags  and  transparencies 
expressing  the  heroism  of  those  who  were  willing  to  do 
anything  to  get  us  into  the  fight. 

Everybody  was  there — except  Judge  Stone.  I  re 
member  looking  through  the  open  door  at  the  great  iron 
safe  into  which  he  had  put  the  county  satchel — I  am  care 
ful  not  to  commit  myself  as  to  the  money  part  of  it — and 
all  the  events  of  the  previous  visit  came  back  through 
my  mind  ;  but  mainly  how  angry  I  had  been  with  Virginia 
for  being  kissed  by  Bob  Wade.  And  Bob  was  there,  too, 
all  spick  and  span  in  his  new  lieutenant's  uniform  with 
Kittie  Fleming  hanging  on  his  arm,  her  eyes  drinking 
him  in  with  every  glance.  The  governor  was  in  no 
position  to  make  a  row  about  this.  The  occasion  had 
caused  an  armistice  to  be  signed  as  to  all  our  neighbor 
hood  quarrels,  and  Bob  Wade  was  emancipated  from 
the  stern  paternal  control,  as  Jack  had  been  when  he 
went  off  with  the  first  flight  in  the  original  seventy- 


382  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

five  thousand — emancipated  by  the  uniform.  Bob  and 
Kittie  sailed  along  in  the  face  and  eyes  of  the  gover 
nor  and  his  wife  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  such  association 
was  forbidden — and  sailed  down  to  Waterloo  where  they 
were  married  before  we  went  off  hurrahing  for  the  cause. 

Virginia  was  there  with  the  elder  and  grandma.  The 
old  preacher  and  his  wife  looked  more  shabby  than  I  had 
ever  seen  them,  grandma's  gloves  more  extensively 
darned,  the  elder's  clothes  shinier,  his  cuffs  in  all  their 
whiteness  more  frayed,  and  there  were  beautifully  darned 
places  in  the  stiff  starched  bosom  of  his  shirt.  He 
pressed  my  hand  warmly  as  he  said,  "God  bless  you, 
Jacob,  and  bring  you  safe  back  to  us,  my  boy!"  Grand 
ma's  eyes  glistened  as  she  echoed  his  sentiments  and 
began  asking  me  about  my  underwear  and  especially  my 
socks.  Virginia  looked  the  other  way ;  but  when  I  went 
off  by  myself,  Will  Lockwood  came  and  drew  me  away 
into  a  corner  to  talk  with  me  about  old  times  along  the 
canal ;  and  suddenly  we  found  Virginia  there,  and  Will 
all  at  once  thought  of  some  one  he  wanted  to  speak  to 
and  left  us  together. 

"I  didn't  mean  that  I  thought  you  ought  not  to  go  to 
the  war,  Teunis,"  said  she.     "You  must  go,  of  course." 

"Maybe  your  friends,"  I  said  after  standing  dumb  for 
a  while,  "will  be  on  the  Union  side." 

"No,"  said  she.  "I  have  no  relations — and  few  friends 
there ;  but  all  I  have  will  be  on  the  other  side,  I  reckon. 
It  makes  no  difference.  They've  forgotten  me  by  this 
time.  Everybody  has  forgotten  me  that  once  liked  me — 
everybody  but  Elder  Thorndyke  and  Mrs.  Thorndyke. 
They  love  me,  but  nobody  else  does." 

"I  thought  some  others  acted  as  if  they  did,"  I  said. 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      383 

"You  thought  a  lot  about  it!"  she  scoffed.  Then  we 
sat  quite  a  while  silent.  "I  shall  think  every  day,"  said 
she  at  last,  "about  the  only  happy  time  I  have  had  since 
Ann  took  sick — and  long  before  that.  The  only  happy 
time,  and  the  happiest,  I  reckon,  that  I  ever'll  have.  I'll 
think  of  it  every  day  while  you're  at  the  front.  I  want 
you  to  know  when  you  are  suffering  and  in  danger  that 
some  one  thinks  of  the  kindest  thing  you  ever  did — and 
maybe  the  kindest  thing  any  boy  ever  did.  You  don't 
care  about  it  now,  maybe ;  but  the  time  may  come  when 
you  will." 

"What  time  was  that?"  I  asked. 

"You  know,  Teunis,"  the  tears  were  falling  in  her  lap 
now.  "Those  days  when  we  were  together  alone  on  the 
wide  prairie — when  you  took  me  in  and  was  so  good  to 
me — and  saved  me  from  going  wild,  if  not  from  anything 
else  bad.  I  remember  that  for  the  first  few  days,  I  was 
not  quite  easy  in  my  feelings — I  reckon  your  goodness 
hadn't  come  to  me  yet ;  but  one  day,  after  you  had  been 
away  for  a  while,  there  in  the  grove  where  we  stayed  so 
long,  you  looked  so  pale  and  sorry  that  I  began  talking 
to  you  more  intimately,  you  remember,  and  we  suddenly 
drew  close  to  each  other,  and  for  the  first  time,  I  felt  so 
safe,  so  safe!  Something  has  come  between  us  lately, 
Teunis.  I  partly  know  what ;  and  partly  I  don't ;  but 
something " 

She  stopped  in  the  middle  of  what  she  seemed  to  be 
saying.  At  first  I  thought  she  had  choked  up  with  grief, 
but  when  I  looked  her  in  the  face,  except  for  her  eyes 
shining  very  bright,  I  could  not  see  that  she  was  at  all 
worked  up  in  her  feelings.  She  spoke  quite  calmly  to 
some  one  that  passed  by.  I  was  abashed  by  the  thought 


384  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

that  she  was  giving  me  credit  for  something  I  was  not 
entitled  to.  She  spoke  of  the  day  when  I  was  in  my 
heart  the  meanest:  but  how  could  I  explain?  So  I  said 

nothing,  much,  but  hummed  and  hawed,  with  "I "  and 

"Yes,  I ,"  and  nothing  to  the  point.  Finally,  I  bogged 

down,  and  quit. 

"We  are  very  poor,"  said  she,  nodding  toward  the 
elder  and  grandma.  "So,  ignorant  as  I  am,  I  kept  a 
school  last  summer — did  you  know  that?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  knew  about  it.  Over  in  the  Hoosier 
settlement." 

"I  ain't  a  good  teacher,"  she  said,  "only  with  the  little 
children ;  but  sometimes  we  shouldn't  have  had  the  neces 
saries  of  life,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  what  I  earned.  I  can't 
do  too  much  for  them.  They  have  been  father  and  mother 
to  me,  and  I  shall  be  a  daughter  to  them.  If — if  they 
want  me  to  go  with — with — in  circles  which  I — I — don't 
care  half  so  much  about  as  for — for  the  birds,  and  flow 
ers — and  the  people  back  in  our  grove — and  for  people 
who  don't  care  for  me  any  more — why,  I  don't  think  I 
ought  to  disobey  Mrs.  Thorndyke.  But  I  don't  believe  as 
she  does — or  did — about  things  that  have  happened  to 
you  since — since  we  parted  and  got  to  be  strangers, 
Teunis.  And  neither  does  any  one  else,  nor  she  herself 
any  more.  People  respect  you,  Teunis.  I  wanted  to  say 
that  to  you,  too,  before  you  go  away — maybe  forever, 
Teunis!" 

She  touched  on  so  many  things — sore  things  and 
sacred  things — in  this  speech,  that  I  only  looked  at  her 
with  tears  in  my  eyes ;  and  she  saw  them.  It  was  the  only 
answer  I  could  make,  and  before  she  could  say  any  more, 
the  elder  and  his  wife  came  and  took  her  home.  I  had  got 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      385 

half-way  to  Cairo,  Illinois,  before  I  worked  it  out  that  by 
"the  people  back  in  our  grove,"  she  must  have  meant  me ; 
for  the  only  others  there  had  been  that  gang  of  horse- 
thieves:  and  if  so  she  must  have  meant  me  when  she 
spoke  of  "people  who  don't  care  for  me  any  more" — but 
it  was  too  late  to  do  anything  in  the  way  of  correcting  this 
mistake  then.  All  I  could  pride  myself  on  was  having  a 
good  memory  as  to  what  she  said.  I  guess  this  proves 
my  relationship  to  that  other  Dutchman  who  took  so  long 
to  build  the  church.  Remember,  though,  that  he  finally 
built  it. 

5 

The  Civil  War  is  no  part  of  the  history  of  Vandemark 
Township ;  and  I  had  small  part  in  the  Civil  War.  But 
one  thing  that  took  place  on  the  field  of  Shiloh  does 
belong  in  this  history.  Most  of  the  members  of  my  com 
pany  enlisted  in  October,  1861,  but  we  did  not  get  to  the 
front  until  the  very  day  of  the  Battle  of  Shiloh.  I  was  in 
one  of  the  two  regiments  whose  part  in  the  battle  has 
caused  so  much  controversy.  I  gave  Senator  Cummins 
an  affidavit  about  it  only  the  other  day  to  settle  something 
about  a  monument  on  the  field. 

We  came  up  the  Tennessee  River  the  night  of  the  day 
before  the  battle,  and  landed  at  Pittsburgh  Landing  at 
daybreak  of  the  first  day's  fight.  We  had  not  had  our 
guns  issued  to  us  yet.  Some  have  thought  it  a  little  hard 
on  us  to  be  shoved  into  a  great  battle  without  ever  hav 
ing  loaded  or  fired  our  muskets.  When  we  were  landed 
the  guns  were  issued  to  my  company,  and  we  were 
given  about  half  an  hour's  instruction  in  the  way  they 
were  worked.  Of  course  most  of  us  had  done  shooting, 
and  were  a  little  better  than  green  hands;  but  Will 


386  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Lockwood  during  the  fight  loaded  his  gun  until  it  was 
full  of  unfired  loads,  and  forgot  to  put  a  cap  on.  Then 
he  discovered  his  mistake,  and  put  on  a  cap,  and  would 
have  blown  off  his  own  head  by  firing  all  the  stuff  out 
at  once,  when  Captain  Gowdy  saw  what  he  was  doing 
and  snatched  the  gun  away  from  him  calling  him  a 
damned  fool,  and  broke  the  stock  off  the  musket  on  the 
ground.  There  were  plenty  of  guns  for  Will  to  select 
from  by  that  time  which  were  not  in  use,  so  he  picked 
up  another  and  made  a  new  start ;  but  not  for  long. 

After  the  guns  were  issued  to  us,  we  stood  there  on 
the  bank,  and  lounged  about  on  the  landing,  waiting  for 
the  issue  of  cartridges.  An  orderly  came  to  me  with 
Magnus  following  him,  and  gave  me  the  captain's  order  to 
report  to  him  in  the  cabin  of  the  transport  which  lay  tied 
up  at  the  river  bank.  We  looked  at  each  other  in  won 
der,  but  followed  the  orderly  into  the  cabin,  where  we 
stood  at  attention.  The  captain  returned  our  salutes, 
dismissed  the  orderly,  and  after  his  footsteps  had  gone 
out  of  hearing,  turned  to  us. 

"Thorkelson  and  Vandemark,"  said  he,  "I  have  a  few 
words  to  say  to  you.  I  don't  find  anything  in  the  books 
covering  the  case,  and  am  speaking  as  man  to  man." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  I. 

"Ay  hare,"  said  Magnus. 

"Thorkelson,"  Gowdy  went  on,  "you  have  had  an 
ambition  to  put  an  end  to  me.  Well,  now's  your  chance, 
or  will  be  when  we  get  out  there  where  the  shooting  is 
going  on.  You've  had  a  poor  chance  to  practise  marks 
manship  ;  but  maybe  you  can  shoot  well  enough  to  hit  a 
man  of  my  size  from  the  rear — for  my  men  will  be  to  the 
rear  of  me  in  a  fight." 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      387 

He  stopped  and  looked  straight  in  Magnus's  eyes ;  and 
Magnus  stared  straight  back.  At  last,  Gowdy's  eyes 
swept  around  toward  me,  and  then  back  again. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "what  do  you  and  your  friend  say? 
The  bond  to  keep  the  peace  doesn't  run  in  Tennessee." 

"I  think,"  said  I,  "as  man  to  man,  that  you  deserve 
shooting;  but  maybe  this  ain't  the  place  for  it.  I  voted 
for  you  for  captain  because  you  seem  to  know  your  busi 
ness — and  I  don't  b'lieve  we've  got  another  that  does. 
That's  how  I  feel." 

Gowdy  laughed,  that  friendly,  warm,  musical  laugh  of 
his,  just  as  he  would  have  laughed  in  a  horse  trade,  or 
over  the  bar,  or  while  helping  the  church  at  a  donation 
party. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "I  called  you  in  here — especially  you, 
Thorkelson — to  say  that  if  you  feel  bound  by  any  vow 
you've  made,  to  shoot  me,  why,  you  may  shoot  and  be 
damned.  I  shan't  pay  any  attention  to  the  matter.  From 
the  way  it  sounds  out  there  at  the  front,  it  will  be  only  one 
bullet  added  to  a  basketful.  That's  all,  Thorkelson." 

"Captain  Gowdy,"  said  Magnus. 

"Go  on,  Thorkelson,"  said  Gowdy. 

"Van  Ay  bane  svorn  in,"  said  Magnus,  "Ay  take  you 
for  captain.  You  bane  a  dam  good-for-nothing  rascal,  but 
you  bane  best  man  for  captain.  Ay  bane  tied  up.  You 
Bane  necessary  to  maybe  save  lives  of  a  hundred  dam  sight 
better  men  dan  you.  Ay  not  shoot.  You  insult  me  ven 
you  talk  about  it." 

"In  spite  of  the  somewhat  uncomplimentary  and 
insubordinate  language  in  which  you  express  yourself," 
said  Gowdy,  "which  I  overlook  under  the  peculiar  cir 
cumstances,  I  reckon  I  must  admit  that  I  did  assume  an 


388  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

attitude  on  your  part  of  which  you  are  incapable,  and 
that  such  an  assumption  was  insulting — if  a  private  can 
be  insulted  by  a  commissioned  officer.  This  being  man  to 
man,  I  apologize.  You  may  go,  Thorkelson." 

Magnus  clicked  his  heels  together  in  the  way  he  had 
learned  in  the  old  country,  and  saluted ;  Captain  Gowdy 
returned  the  salute,  and  Magnus  marched  out  with  his 
head  high,  and  his  stomach  drawn  in. 

"Devilish  good  soldier!"  said  Gowdy  as  he  went  out. 
"Well,  that  clears  the  atmosphere  a  little!  So,  Vande- 
mark,  you  think  I  need  killing,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  it's  all  in  the  point  of  view,"  said  he,  leaning 
toward  me  and  smiling  that  ingratiating  smile  of  his. 
"Sometimes  I  think  so,  too;  but  there's  only  one  policy 
for  me — lose  'em  and  forget  'em.  I  sometimes  think  that 
the  time  may  come  when  I  shall  wish  I  had  married  that 
girl.  Have  you  seen  the  baby  lately  ?" 

"I  used  to  see  it  every  few  days,"  said  I.  "It's  run- 
nin'  all  over  the  place." 

"Look  like  me?" 

"It  will  when  it  gits  older." 

"When  you  go  back,"  said  he,  "if  I  don't,  will  you  do 
me  and  this  little  offspring  of  mine — and  its  mother — a 
favor?" 

"I'll  have  to  wait  and  see  what  it  is,"  said  I. 

"Same  old  cautious  Vandemark!"  said  he,  laughing. 
"Well,  that's  why  I  picked  you  to  do  this,  if  you  will  be 
so  good.  You  can  look  the  matter  over  in  case  it  comes  to 
anything,  and  act  if  you  think  best ;  but  I  think  you  will 
decide  to  act.  Please  go  to  Lusch  in  Waterloo  and  ask 
for  a  packet  of  papers  I  left  there,  to  be  opened  in  your 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      389 

presence  and  at  your  request  if  I  wink  out  in  this  irre 
pressible  conflict.  Remember,  I  shall  be  on  the  other  side 
of  Jordan  or  some  other  stream.  Inside  of  the  outer 
envelope  will  be  a  letter  to  Rowena,  which  please  deliver. 
There  will  also  be  one  for  you,  with  some  securities  and 
other  things  to  be  held  in  trust  for  the  benefit  of  Rowena's 
boy — and  mine.  I  hate  that  'Owen  Love  joy'  part  of  his 
name ;  but  he  is  entitled  to  the  name  of  Gowdy,  and  in 
view  of  the  fact  that  he  has  it,  I  want  him  to  have  a 
good  chance — as  good  as  he  can  have  in  view  of  the 
irregularity  of  his  birth.  To  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  as 
my  affairs  are  now  situated,  I'm  giving  him  more  than 
he  could  take  as  my  son  if  he  were  legitimate — for  as 
neighbor  to  neighbor,  I'm  practically  bu'sted.  All  I'm 
doing  is  hanging  on  for  land  to  rise.  Now  this  isn't 
much  to  do,  and  you  won't  have  to  act  unless  you  want  to. 
Will  you  have  the  papers  opened,  and  act  for  the  dead 
scoundrel  if  it  seems  the  proper  thing  to  do?  You  see, 
there's  hardly  anybody  else  who  is  satisfactory  to  me,  and 
at  the  same  time  a  friend  to  the  other  parties." 

"I'll  have  the  papers  opened,"  said  I ;  "but  remember, 
this  don't  take  back  what  I  said  a  few  minutes  ago.  I 
think  you  ought  to  be  killed." 

"Thank  you,"  said  he.  "Private  Vandemark!  You 
may  go !" 

Now  I  have  told  this  story  over  and  over  again  in 
court,  to  commissioners  taking  testimony,  to  lawyers  in 
their  offices,  to  lawyers  out  at  my  farm.  It  has  been 
printed  in  court  records,  including  the  Reports  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  Iowa.  Judges  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  Iowa  have  been  nominated  or  refused  nomination 
because  of  their  views,  or  their  lack  of  views,  or  their 


390  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

refusal  to  state  in  advance  off  in  some  hole  and  corner, 
what  their  vievvs  would  be  on  the  legal  effect  of  this  con 
versation  between  me  and  Buckner  Gowdy  in  the  cabin 
of  the  transport  on  the  morning  of  the  first  day's  battle  of 
Shiloh — so  N.  V.  says — but  this  is  the  first  time  I  have 
had  a  chance  to  tell  it  as  it  was,  without  some  squirt  of 
a  lawyer  pointing  his  finger  at  me  and  trying  to  make  me 
change  the  story;  or  some  other  limb  of  the  law  inter 
rupting  me  v/ith  objections  that  it  was  incompetent, 
irrelevant  and  immaterial,  not  the  best  evidence,  hear 
say,  a  privileged  communication,  and  a  lot  of  other  balder 
dash.  This  is  what  took  place,  just  as  I  have  stated  it; 
and  this  is  all  the  Vandemark  Township,  Monterey 
County,  or  Iowa  history  there  was  in  the  battle  so  far  as 
I  know — except  that  Iowa  had  more  men  in  that  fight 
than  any  other  state  in  proportion  to  her  population. 

Just  to  show  you  that  I  didn't  run  away,  I  must  tell 
you  that  we  had  ammunition  issued  to  us  after  a  while, 
and  were  told  how  to  use  it.  We  got  forty  rounds  of 
cartridges  at  first  and  ten  rounds  right  afterward.  Then 
we  formed  and  marched,  part  of  the  time  at  the  double, 
out  into  a  cotton-field.  In  front  of  us  a  few  hundred 
yards  off,  was  a  line  of  forest  trees,  and  under  the  trees 
were  tents,  that  I  guess  some  of  our  other  men  were 
driven  out  of  that  morning.  Here  we  were  at  once  under 
a  hot  fire  and  lost  a  lot  of  men.  We  went  into  action 
about  half-past  nine  or  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon,  and 
two  regiments  of  us  stood  the  enemy  off  along  that  line 
until  about  noon.  Then  they  rushed  us,  and  such  of  us 
as  could  went  away  from  there.  Those  that  didn't  are 
most  of  them  there  yet.  I  stayed,  because  of  a  shot 
through  my  leg  which  splintered  the  bone.  The  enemy 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      391 

trampled  over  me  as  they  drove  our  men  off  the  field,  and 
a  horse  stepped  on  my  shoulder,  breaking  the  collar-bone. 
Then,  when  the  Johnnies  were  driven  back,  I  was  mauled 
around  again,  but  don't  remember  much  except  that  I 
was  thirsty.  And  then,  for  months  and  months,  I  was  in 
one  hospital  or  another ;  and  finally  I  was  discharged  as 
unfit  for  service,  because  I  was  too  lame  to  march.  I  can 
feel  it  in  frosty  weather  yet;  but  it  never  amounted  to 
much  except  to  the  dealers  in  riding  plows  and  the  like. 
So  ended  my  military  life.  I  had  borne  arms  for  my 
country  for  about  three  hours ! 

It  was  the  eighth  of  January,  1863,  when  I  got  home. 
I  rode  from  the  railroad  to  Foster  Blake's  in  his  sleigh, 
looked  over  my  herd  which  he  was  running  on  shares  for 
me.  and  crossed  Vandemark's  Folly  Marsh  on  the  hard 
snow  which  was  over  the  tall  grass  and  reeds  everywhere. 
How  my  grove  had  grown  that  past  summer !  I  began  to 
feel  at  home,  as  I  warmed  the  little  house  up  with  a  fire 
in  the  stove,  and  rolling  up  in  my  blankets,  which  for  a 
long  time  were  more  comfortable  to  me  than  a  bed,  went 
to  sleep  on  the  floor.  I  never  felt  the  sense  of  home  more 
delightfully  than  that  night.  I  would  set  things  to  rights, 
and  maybe  go  over  to  Monterey  Centre  and  see  Virginia 
next  day.  I  could  see  smoke  at  Magnus's  down  the  road. 
I  felt  a  pleasure  in  thus  sneaking  in  without  any  one's 
knowing  it. 

I  had  not  gone  to  see  Mr.  Lusch  in  Waterloo,  for  I  had 
learned  that  so  far  from  being  killed,  Captain  Gowdy  had 
come  through  Shiloh  without  a  scratch,  and  that  he  had 
soon  afterward  resigned  and  gone  back  to  Monterey 
County.  It  has  always  been  believed,  but  I  don't  know 
why,  that  he  was  allowed  to  resign  either  because  of  his 


392  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

relationship  to  the  great  Confederate  families  of  Ken 
tucky,  or  because  of  his  record  there  before  he  went  to 
Iowa.  Anyhow,  he  never  joined  the  G.  A.  R.  or  fellow- 
shipped  with  the  soldiers  after  the  war.  I  always  hated 
him;  but  I  do  him  the  justice  to  say  here  that  he  was  a 
brave  man,  and  except  for  his  one  great  weakness — the 
weakness  that  I  am  told  Lord  Byron  was  destroyed  by — 
he  would  have  been  a  good  man.  I  feel  certain  that  if  he 
had  been  given  a  chance  to  make  a  career  in  either  army, 
he  would  have  been  a  general  before  the  war  was  over. 

That  afternoon,  J.  P.  Roebuck,  who  had  seen  my 
smoke,  came  over  to  welcome  me  home  and  to  talk  politics 
with  me.  We  must  have  a  township  for  ourselves,  he 
said.  Now  look  at  the  situation  in  the  school.  We  had  a 
big  school  in  the  Vandemark  schoolhouse,  thirteen 
scholars  being  enrolled.  We  had  a  good  teacher,  too, 
Virginia  Royall.  But  there  wasn't  enough  fuel  to  last  two 
days,  and  those  Monterey  Centre  folks  were  dead  on  their 
feet  and  nobody  seemed  to  care  if  the  school  closed  down. 
He  went  on  with  his  argument  for  a  separate  township 
organization ;  I  all  the  time  thinking  with  my  mind  in  a 
whirl  that  Virginia  was  near,  and  I  could  see  her  next 
day.  When  he  said  that  we  would  have  to  get  the  vote  of 
Doc  Bliven,  who  was  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Super 
visors,  I  began  to  take  notice. 

"Bliven  always  seemed  to  like  you,"  said  Roebuck. 
"We  all  kind  of  wish  you'd  see  what  you  can  do  for  us 
with  him." 

"I  think  I  can  get  his  vote,"  I  said,  after  thinking  it 
over  for  a  while — and  as  I  thought  of  it,  the  Dubuque 
ferry  in  1855,  the  arrest  of  Bliven  in  the  queue  of  people 
waiting  at  the  post-office,  my  smuggled  passenger,  and 


GOWDY  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIS  SON      393 

the  uplift  I  felt  as  the  Iowa  prairie  opened  to  my  view  as 
we  drew  out  of  the  ravines  to  the  top  of  the  hills — all 
this  rolled  over  my  memory.  Roebuck  looked  at  me  like 
a  person  facing  a  medium  in  a  trance. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  believe  I  can  get  his  vote.    I'll  try," 


CHAPTER  XX 

JUST  AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED 

I  WAS  surprised  next  morning  to  note  the  change  which 
•••  had  taken  place  in  the  weather.  It  had  been  cold  and 
raw  when  I  was  crossing  the  prairies  to  my  farm,  with 
the  wind  in  the  southeast,  and  filled  with  a  bitter  chill. 
In  the  night  the  wind  had  gone  down,  and  it  was  as  still 
as  death  in  the  morning.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life, 
and  it  has  happened  but  twice  since,  I  heard  the  whistles 
of  the  engines  on  the  railroad  twelve  miles  away  to  the 
north.  There  was  a  little  beard  of  hoar  frost  along  the 
side  of  every  spear  of  grass  and  weed ;  which,  as  the  sun 
rose  higher,  dropped  off  and  lay  under  every  twig  and 
bent,  in  a  little  heap  if  it  stood  up  straight,  or  in  a  wind 
row  if  it  slanted;  for  so  still  was  the  air  that  the  frost 
went  straight  down,  and  lay  as  it  fell.  I  could  hear  the 
bawling  of  the  cattle  in  every  barnyard  for  miles  around, 
and  the  crowing  of  roosters  as  the  fowls  strutted  about 
in  the  warm  sun.  It  was  thawing  by  ten  o'clock.  The 
temperature  had  run  up  as  the  wind  dropped;  and  as  I 
now  know,  with  the  lowering  of  the  pressure  of  the 
barometer,  if  we  had  had  one. 

"This  is  a  weather-breeder!" 

This  was  my  way  of  telling  to  myself  what  a  scien 
tist  would  have  described  as  marked  low  barometer ;  and 
he  would  have  predicted  from  his  maps  that  we  should 

394 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    395 

soon  find  ourselves  in  the  northwest  quadrant  of  the 
"low"  with  high  winds  and  falling  temperature.  It  all 
comes  to  the  same  thing. 

Instead  of  going  to  see  Virginia  before  her  school 
opened  in  the  morning,  I  went  to  work  banking  up  my 
house,  fixing  my  sheds,  and  reefing  things  down  for  a 
gale  as  I  learned  to  say  on  the  Lakes.  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  would  go  to  the  schoolhouse  just  before  four 
and  surprise  Virginia,  and  hoped  it  would  be  a  little 
stormy  so  I  could  have  an  excuse  to  take  her  home.  I 
need  not  have  worried  about  the  storm.  It  came. 

At  noon  the  northwestern  sky,  a  third  of  the  way  to 
a  point  overhead,  was  of  an  indigo-blue  color ;  but  it  still 
seemed  to  be  clear  sky — though  I  looked  at  it  with  sus 
picion,  it  was  such  an  unusual  thing  for  January.  As  I 
stood  gazing  at  it,  Narcisse  Lacroix,  Pierre's  twelve-year- 
old  boy,  came  by  with  his  little  sister.  I  asked  him  if 
school  was  out,  and  he  said  the  teacher  had  sent  them 
home  because  there  was  no  more  fuel  for  the  stove;  but 
it  was  so  warm  that  the  teacher  was  going  to  stay  and 
sweep  out,  and  write  up  her  register. 

As  the  children  went  out  of  sight,  a  strange  and  awful 
change  came  over  the  face  of  nature.  The  bright  sun 
was  blotted  out  as  it  touched  the  edge  of  that  rising  belt 
of  indigo  blue.  This  blanket  of  cloud,  like  a  curtain 
with  puckering  strings  to  bring  it  together  in  the  south 
east,  drew  fast  across  the  sky — very,  very  fast,  consider 
ing  that  there  was  not  a  breath  of  wind  stirring.  It  was 
a  fearful  thing  to  see,  the  blue-black  cloud  hurrying  up 
the  sky,  over  the  sky,  and  far  down  until  there  was  no 
bright  spot  except  a  narrowing  oval  near  the  southeast 
ern  horizon ;  and  not  a  breath  of  wind.  The  storm  was 


396  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

like  a  leaning  wall,  that  bent  far  over  us  while  its  foot 
dragged  along  the  ground,  miles  and  miles  behind  its  top. 
Everything  had  a  tinge  of  strange,  ghastly  greenish  blue 
like  the  face  of  a  corpse,  and  it  was  growing  suddenly 
dark  as  if  the  day  had  all  at  once  shut  down  into  dusk. 

I  knew  what  it  meant,  though  I  had  never  seen  the 
change  from  calm  warmth  to  cold  wind  come  with  such 
marked  symptoms  of  suddenness  and  violence.  It  meant 
a  blizzard — though  we  never  heard  or  adopted  the  word 
until  in  the  late  'seventies.  I  thought  I  had  plenty  of 
time,  however,  and  I  went  into  the  house  and  changed 
my  clothes ;  for  I  wanted  to  look  my  best  when  I  saw  my 
girl.  I  put  on  new  and  warm  underwear,  for  I  foresaw 
that  it  might  be  bad  before  I  could  get  home.  I  put  on 
an  extra  pair  of  drawers  under  my  blue  trousers,  and  a 
buckskin  undervest  under  my  shirt.  I  thanked  God  for 
this  forethought  before  the  night  was  over. 

As  I  stood  naked  in  making  this  change  of  clothes, 
suddenly  the  house  staggered  as  if  it  had  been  cuffed  by 
a  great  hand.  I  peeped  out  of  the  window,  and  against 
the  dark  sky  I  could  see  the  young  grove  of  trees  bow 
ing  before  the  great  gusts  which  had  struck  them  from 
the  northwest.  The  wall  of  wind  and  frost  and  death 
had  moved  against  them. 


The  thought  in  my  mind  was,  Hurry !  Hurry !  For 
what  if  Virginia,  in  the  schoolhouse  without  fuel,  should 
try  to  reach  the  place  where  she  boarded,  or  any  in 
habited  house,  in  that  storm  ?  As  yet  there  was  no  snow 
in  the  air  except  the  few  flakes  which  were  driven  hori 
zontally  out  of  the  fierce  squall;  but  I  knew  that  this 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED     397 

could  not  last;  for  the  crust  on  the  blanket  of  snow  al 
ready  on  the  ground  would  soon  be  ground  through 
wherever  exposed  to  the  sand-blast  of  particles  already 
driven  along  the  surface  of  the  earth  in  a  creeping  sheet 
of  white.  As  I  hurriedly  finished  my  dressing,  I  heard 
the  rattle  of  a  shower  of  missiles  as  they  struck  the  house ; 
and  looking  out  I  saw  that  the  crust  was  already  being 
cut  through  by  this  grinding  process ;  and  as  the  wind 
got  a  purchase  under  the  crust,  it  was  torn  up  in  great 
flakes  as  if  blown  up  by  a  thousand  explosions  from  un 
derneath.  In  an  instant,  almost,  for  these  bursts  of  snow 
took  place  nearly  all  at  once,  the  air  was  filled  with  such 
a  smother  of  snow  that  the  landscape  went  out  of  sight 
in  a  great  cloud  of  deep-shaded  whiteness.  The  blizzard 
was  upon  us.  I  should  have  my  work  cut  out  for  me  in 
getting  to  the  schoolhouse. 

I  wonder  if  the  people  who  have  been  born  in  or 
moved  to  Iowa  in  the  past  thirty  to  forty  years  can  be 
made  to  understand  that  we  can  not  possibly  have  such 
winter  storms  of  this  sort  as  we  had  then.  The  groves 
themselves  prevent  it.  The  standing  corn-stalks  pre 
vent  it.  Every  object  that  civilization  and  development 
have  placed  in  the  way  of  the  wind  prevents  it.  Then, 
the  snow,  once  lifted  on  the  wings  of  the  blast,  became 
a  part  of  the  air,  and  remained  in  it.  The  atmosphere 
for  hundreds  of  feet,  for  thousands  of  feet  from  the 
grassy  surface  of  the  prairie,  was  a  moving  cloud  of 
snow,  which  fell  only  as  the  very  tempest  itself  became 
over-burdened  with  it.  As  the  storm  continued,  it  al 
ways  grew  cold;  for  it  was  the  North  emptying  itself 
into  the  South.  I  knew  what  the  blizzard  was;  and  my 
breath  caught  as  I  thought  of  Virginia,  in  what  I  knew 
must  be  a  losing  struggle  with  it 


398  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Even  to  the  strongest  man,  there  was  terror  in  this 
storm,  the  breath  of  which  came  with  a  roar  and  struck 
with  a  shiver,  as  the  trees  creaked  and  groaned,  and  the 
paths  and  roads  were  obliterated.  As  the  tumult  grows 
hills  are  leveled,  and  hollows  rise  into  hills.  Every  shed- 
roof  is  the  edge  of  an  oblique  Niagara  of  snow;  every 
angle  the  center  of  a  whirlpool.  If  you  are  caught  out 
in  it,  the  Spirit  of  the  Storm  flies  at  you  and  loads  your 
eyebrows  and  eyelashes  and  hair  and  beard  with  icicles 
and  snow.  As  you  look  out  into  the  white,  the  light 
through  your  bloodshot  eyelids  turns  everything  to  crim 
son.  Your  feet  lag,  as  the  feathery  whiteness  comes  al 
most  to  your  knees.  Your  breath  comes  choked  as  with 
water.  If  you  are  out  far  away  from  shelter,  God  help 
you !  You  struggle  along  for  a  time,  all  the  while  fear 
ing  to  believe  that  the  storm  which  did  not  seem  so  very 
dangerous,  is  growing  more  violent,  and  that  the  day 
light,  which  you  thought  would  last  for  hours  yet,  seems 
to  be  fading,  and  that  night  appears  to  be  setting  in  ear 
lier  than  usual.  It  is !  For  there  are  two  miles  of  snow 
between  you  and  the  sun.  But  in  a  swiftly  moving  maze 
of  snow,  partly  spit  out  of  the  lowering  clouds,  and  partly 
torn  and  swept  up  from  the  gray  and  cloud-like  earth,  in 
a  roar  of  rising  wind,  and  oppressed  by  growing  anxiety, 
you  stubbornly  press  on. 

Night  shuts  down  darker.  You  can  not  tell,  when 
you  try  to  look  about  you,  what  is  sky  and  what  is  earth ; 
for  all  is  storm.  You  feel  more  and  more  tired.  All  at 
once,  you  find  that  the  wind  which  was  at  your  side  a 
while  ago,  as  you  kept  beating  into  it  on  your  course  to 
ward  help  and  shelter,  is  now  at  your  back.  Has  the 
wind  changed?  No;  it  will  blow  for  hours  from  the 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED     399 

same  quarter — perhaps  for  days !  No ;  you  have  changed 
your  course,  and  are  beating  off  with  the  storm!  This 
will  never  do:  you  rally,  and  again  turn  your  cheek  to 
the  cutting  blast:  but  you  know  that  you  are  off  your 
path ;  yet  you  wonder  if  you  may  not  be  going  right — if 
the  wind  has  changed;  or  if  you  have  not  turned  to  the 
left  when  you  should  have  gone  to  the  right. 

Loneliness,  anxiety,  weariness,  uncertainty.  An 
awful  sense  of  helplessness  takes  possession  of  you.  If 
it  were  daylight,  you  could  pass  around  the  deep  drifts, 
even  in  this  chaos ;  but  now  a  drift  looks  the  same  as  the 
prairie  grass  swept  bare.  You  plunge  headlong  into  it, 
flounder  through  it,  creeping  on  hands  and  knees,  with 
your  face  sometimes  buried  in  the  snow,  get  on  your 
feet  again,  and  struggle  on. 

You  know  that  the  snow,  finer  than  flour,  is  beating 
through  your  clothing.  You  are  chilled,  and  shiver. 
Sometimes  you  stop  for  a  while  and  with  your  hands 
over  your  eyes  stand  stooped  with  your  back  to  the  wind. 
You  try  to  stamp  your  feet  to  warm  them,  but  the  snow, 
soft  and  yielding,  forbids  this.  You  are  so  tired  that  you 
stop  to  rest  in  the  midst  of  a  great  drift — you  turn  your 
face  from  the  driving  storm  and  wait.  It  seems  so  much 
easier  than  stumbling  wearily  on.  Then  comes  the  in- 
rushing  consciousness  that  to  rest  thus  is  to  die.  You 
rush  on  in  a  frenzy.  You  have  long  since  ceased  to  think 
of  what  is  your  proper  course, — you  only  know  that  you 
must  struggle  on.  You  attempt  a  shout; — ah,  it  seems 
so  faint  and  distant  even  to  yourself !  No  one  else  could 
hear  it  a  rod  in  this  raging,  howling,  shrieking  storm,  in 
which  awful  sounds  come  out  of  the  air  itself,  and  not 
alone  from  the  things  against  which  it  beats.  And  there 
is  no  one  else  to  hear. 


400  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

You  gaze  about  with  snow-smitten  eyeballs  for  some 
possible  light  from  a  friendly  window.  Why,  the  sun  it 
self  could  not  pierce  this  moving  earth-cloud  of  snow! 
Your  feet  are  not  so  cold  as  they  were.  You  can  not  feel 
them  as  you  walk.  You  come  to  a  hollow  filled  with  soft 
snow.  Perhaps  there  is  the  bed  of  a  stream  deep  down 
below.  You  plunge  into  this  hollow,  and  as  you  fall,  turn 
your  face  from  the  storm.  A  strange  and  delicious  sense 
of  warmth  and  drowsiness  steals  over  you ;  you  sink  low 
er,  and  feel  the  cold  soft  whiteness  sifting  over  neck  and 
cheek  and  forehead:  but  you  do  not  care.  The  struggle 
is  over;  and — in  the  morning  the  sun  glints  coldly  over 
a  new  landscape  of  gently  undulating  alabaster.  Yonder 
is  a  little  hillock  which  marks  the  place  where  the  bliz 
zard  overtook  its  prey.  Sometime,  when  the  warm  March 
winds  have  thawed  the  snow,  some  gaunt  wolf  will  snuff 
about  this  spot,  and  send  up  the  long  howl  that  calls  the 
pack  to  the  banquet. 

Such  thoughts  as  these  were  a  part  of  our  lives  then ; 
and  with  such  thoughts  my  mind  was  filled  as  I  stepped 
out  into  the  storm,  my  trousers  tied  down  over  my  boots 
with  bag-strings ;  my  fur  cap  drawn  down  over  my  eyes ; 
my  blue  military  overcoat  flapping  about  my  legs;  the 
cape  of  it  wrapped  about  my  head,  and  tied  with  a  woolen 
comforter. 

3 

Through  these  wrappings,  a  strange  sound  came  to 
my  ears — the  sound  of  sleigh-bells;  and  in  a  moment, 
so  close  were  they,  there  emerged  from  the  whirl  of 
snow,  a  team  of  horses  drawing  a  swell-body  cutter, 
in  which  sat  a  man  driving,  wrapped  up  in  buffalo  robes 
and  blankets  until  the  box  of  the  sleigh  was  filled.  The 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    401 

horses  came  to  a  stop  in  the  lee  of  my  house.  There  had 
been  no  such  rig  in  the  county  before  I  had  gone  to  the 
war. 

"Is  this  the  Vandemark  schoolhouse  ?"  came  from 
the  man  in  the  cutter. 

"No,  Captain,"  said  I;  for  discipline  is  strong,  "this 
is  my  farm." 

"Ah,  it's  you,  Mr.  Vandemark,  is  it?"  said  he.  "Can 
you  tell  me  the  way  to  the  schoolhouse?" 

Discipline  flew  off  into  the  storm.  I  never  for  a  mo 
ment  harbored  the  idea  that  I  was  to  allow  Buck  Gowdy 
to  rescue  Virginia  from  the  blizzard,  and  carry  her  off 
into  either  danger  or  safety.  There  was  none  of  my 
Dutch  hesitation  here.  This  was  battle ;  and  I  behaved 
with  as  much  prompt  decision  as  I  did  on  the  field  of 
Shiloh,  where,  I  have  the  captain's  word  for  it  in  writ 
ing,  I  behaved  with  a  good  deal  of  it. 

"Never  mind  about  the  schoolhouse,"  I  said.  "I'll  at 
tend  to  that !' 

"The  hell  you  will  !"  said  he,  in  that  calm  way  of  his. 
"Let  me  see.  Your  house  faces  the  north.  These  trees 

are  on  the  section  line. . .  .The  schoolhouse  is I 

have  it,  now.     Sorry  to  cut  in  ahead  of  you ;  but 

get  up,  Susie — Winnie,  go  on !" 

But  I  had  Susie  and  Winnie  by  the  bits. 

"Vandemark,"  he  said,  and  as  he  shouted  this  to  make 
me  hear  I  could  feel  the  authority  I  had  grown  to  rec 
ognize  in  drill,  "you  forget  yourself!  Let  go  those 
horses!" 

"Not  by  a  damned  sight !" 

I  found  myself  swearing  as  if  I  were  in  the  habit  of  it, 

'Now  the  man  in  any  kind  of  rig  with  another  holding 


402  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

his  horses'  bits  is  in  an  embarrassing  fix.  He  can't  do 
anything  so  long  as  he  remains  in  the  vehicle ;  and  neither 
can  his  horses.  He  must  carry  the  fight  to  the  other 
man,  or  be  made  a  fool  of. 

Buck  Gowdy  was  not  a  man  to  hesitate  in  such  a  case. 
He  carried  the  fight  to  me — and  I  was  glad  to  see  him 
coming.  I  had  waited  for  this  a  long  time.  I  have  no 
skill  in  describing  fights,  and  I  was  too  much  engaged 
in  this  to  remember  the  details.  How  many  blows  were 
exchanged;  what  sort  of  blows  they  were;  how  much 
damage  they  did  until  the  last,  more  than  a  cut  lip  on 
my  part,  I  can  not  tell.  Why  no  more  damage  was  done 
is  clearer — we  were  both  so  wrapped  up  as  to  be  unable 
to  do  much.  I  only  know  that  at  the  last,  I  had  Gowdy 
down  in  the  snow  right  by  my  well-curb ;  and  that  with 
out  taking  time  to  make  any  plan,  I  wrapped  the  well- 
rope  around  him  so  as  to  make  it  necessary  for  him  to 
take  a  little  time  in  getting  loose ;  I  wrote  him  a  receipt 
for  the  team  and  rig,  which  N.  V.  Creede  tells  me  would 
not  have  done  me  any  good ;  and  I  went  out,  very  much 
winded,  shut  the  door  behind  me,  and  getting  into  the 
cutter,  drove  off  into  the  blizzard  with  Gowdy's  team 
and  sleigh,  leaving  him  rolling  around  on  the  floor  un 
winding  the  well-rope,  swearing  like  a  trooper,  and  in  a 
warm  room  where  there  was  plenty  to  eat. 

"And  in  my  opinion,"  said  N.  V.,  "no  matter  how 
much  girl  there  was  at  stake,  the  man  that  chose  to  go 
out  into  that  storm  when  he  could  have  let  the  job  out 
was  the  fool  in  the  case." 

It  was  less  than  a  mile  to  the  schoolhouse,  which  I 
was  lucky  to  find  at  all.  I  could  not  see  it  twenty  feet 
away ;  but  I  was  almost  upset  by  a  snow  fort  which  the 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    403 

children  had  built,  and  taking  this  as  the  sure  sign  of  a 
playground,  I  guessed  my  way  the  fifty  or  sixty  feet 
that  more  by  luck  than  judgment  brought  me  to  the  back 
end  of  the  house,  instead  of  the  front.  I  made  my  way 
around  on  the  windward  side  of  the  building,  hoping  that 
the  jingle  of  the  bells  might  be  heard  as  I  passed  the  win 
dows — for  I  dared  not  leave  the  horses  again,  as  I  had 
done  during  my  contest  with  Gowdy.  Nothing  but  the 
shelter  in  which  they  then  found  themselves  had  kept 
them  from  bolting — that  and  their  bewilderment. 

I  pulled  up  before  the  door  and  shouted  Virginia's 
name  with  all  my  might,  over  and  over  again.  But  I 
suppose  I  sat  there  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  before  Vir 
ginia  came  to  the  door ;  and  then,  while  she  had  all  her 
wraps  on,  she  was  in  her  anxiety  just  taking  a  look  at 
the  weather,  debating  in  her  mind  whether  to  try  for  the 
safety  of  the  fireside,  or  risk  the  stay  in  the  schoolhouse 
with  no  fuel.  She  had  not  heard  the  bells,  or  the  tramp 
ling,  or  my  holloing.  More  by  my  motions  than  any 
thing  else,  she  saw  that  I  was  inviting  her  to  get  in ;  but 
she  knew  no  more  than  her  heels  who  I  was.  She  went 
back  into  the  schoolhouse  and  got  her  dinner-basket — 
lucky  or  providential  act ! — and  in  she  climbed.  If  I  had 
been  Buck  Gowdy  or  Asher  Bushyager  or  the  Devil  him 
self,  she  would  have  done  the  same.  She  would  have 
thought,  of  course,  that  it  was  one  of  the  neighbors  come 
for  her ;  and,  anyhow,  there  was  nothing  else  to  do. 

As  I  turned  back  the  rich  robes  and  the  jingle  of  the 
bells  came  to  her  ears,  she  started ;  but  I  drew  her  down 
into  the  seat,  and  pulled  the  flannel-lined  coonskin  robe 
which  was  under  us,  up  over  our  laps;  I  wrapped  the 
army  blanket  and  the  thick  buffalo-robe  over  and  under 


404  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

us;  and  as  I  did  so,  a  little  black-and-tan  terrier  came 
shivering  out  from  under  the  coonskin  robe  and  jumped 
into  her  lap.  I  started  to  put  it  down  again,  but  she  held 
it — and  as  she  did  she  looked  at  my  blue  sleeve,  and  then 
up  at  the  mass  of  wrappings  I  had  over  my  face.  I 
thought  she  snuggled  up  against  me  a  little  closer,  then. 


I  turned  the  horses  toward  her  boarding-place,  which 
was  with  a  new  family  who  had  moved  in  at  the  head  of 
the  slew,  near  the  pond  for  which  poor  Rowena  was  mak 
ing  the  day  of  the  prairie  fire ;  and  in  doing  so,  set  their 
faces  right  into  the  teeth  of  the  gale.  It  seemed  as  if  it 
would  strip  the  scalps  from  our  heads,  in  spite  of  all  our 
capes  and  comforters  and  veils.  Virginia  pulled  the  robe 
up  over  her  head.  I  had  to  face  the  storm  and  manage 
my  team ;  but  before  I  had  gone  forty  rods,  I  saw  that  I 
was  asking  too  much  of  them ;  and  I  let  them  turn  to  beat 
off  with  it.  At  that  moment  I  really  abandoned  control, 
and  gave  it  over  to  the  wind  and  snow.  But  I  thought 
myself  steering  for  my  own  house.  I  was  not  much  wor 
ried  ;  having  the  confidence  of  youth  and  strength.  The 
cutter  was  low  and  would  not  tip  over  easily.  The 
horses  were  active  and  powerful  and  resolute.  We  were 
nested  down  in  the  deep  box,  wrapped  in  the  warmest  of 
robes ;  and  it  was  not  yet  so  very  cold — not  that  cold 
which  draws  down  into  the  lungs ;  seals  the  nostrils  and 
mouth ;  and  paralyzes  the  strength.  That  cold  was  com 
ing — coming  like  an  army  with  banners;  but  it  was  not 
yet  here.  I  was  not  much  worried  until  I  had  driven  be 
fore  the  wind,  beating  up  as  much  as  I  could  to  the  east, 
without  finding  my  house,  or  anything  in  the  way  of 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    405 

grove  or  fence  to  tell  me  where  it  was.  I  now  remem 
bered  that  I  had  not  mounted  the  hill  on  which  my  house 
stood.  In  fact,  I  had  missed  my  farm,  and  was  lost,  so 
far  as  knowing  my  locality  was  concerned :  and  the  wind 
was  growing  fiercer  and  the  cold  more  bitter. 

For  a  moment  I  quailed  inwardly;  but  I  felt  Vir 
ginia  snuggled  down  by  me  in  what  seemed  to  be  per 
fect  trust ;  and  I  brushed  the  snow  from  my  eye-opening 
and  pushed  on — hoping  that  I  might  by  pure  accident 
strike  shelter  in  that  wild  waste  of  prairie,  and  deter 
mined  to  make  the  fight  of  my  life  for  it  if  I  failed. 

It  was  getting  dusk.  The  horses  were  tiring.  We 
plunged  through  a  deep  drift  under  the  lee  of  a  knoll ; 
and  I  stopped  a  few  moments  to  let  them  breathe.  I  knew 
that  stopping  was  a  bad  symptom,  unless  one  had  a  good 
reason  for  it — but  I  gave  myself  a  good  reason.  I  felt 
Virginia  pulling  at  my  sleeve;  and  I  turned  back  the 
robes  and  looked  at  her.  She  pulled  my  ear  down  to  her 
lips. 

"I  know  you  now,"  she  shouted.    "It's  Teunis !" 

I  nodded;  and  she  squeezed  my  arm  with  her  two 
hands.  Give  up!  Not  for  all  the  winds  and  snows  of 
the  whole  of  the  Iowa  prairie!  I  disarranged  the  robes 
while  I  put  my  arm  around  her  for  a  moment ;  while  she 
patted  my  shoulder.  Then,  putting  tendernesses  aside, 
when  they  must  be  indulged  in  at  the  expense  of  snow  in 
the  sleigh,  I  put  my  horses  into  it  again.  A  few  minutes 
ago,  I  gave  you  the  thoughts  that  ran  through  my  mind 
as  I  conjured  up  the  image  of  one  lost  in  such  a  storm ; 
but  now  I  thought  of  nothing — only  for  a  few  minutes 
after  that  pressure  on  my  arm — but  getting  on  from  mo 
ment  to  moment,  keeping  my  sleigh  from  upsetting,  e»- 


406  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

couraging  those  brave  mares,  and  peering  around  for 
anything  that  might  promise  shelter.  Virginia  has  al 
ways  told  of  this  to  the  children,  when  I  was  not  present, 
to  prove  that  I  am  brave,  even  if  I  am  mortal  slow ;  and 
if  just  facing  danger  from  minute  to  minute  without  look 
ing  further,  is  bravery,  I  suppose  I  am — and  there  is 
plenty  of  good  courage  in  the  world  which  is  nothing 
more,  look  at  it  how  you  will. 

So  far,  the  cutter  and  team  of  which  I  had  robbed 
Buck  Gowdy,  had  been  a  benefit  to  us.  They  gave 
us  transportation,  and  the  warm  sleigh  in  which  to  nest 
down.  I  began  to  wonder,  now,  as  it  began  to  grow  dark, 
as  the  tempest  greatened,  as  my  horses  disappeared  in 
the  smother,  and  as  the  frost  began  to  penetrate  to  our 
bodies,  whether  I  should  not  have  done  better  to  have 
stayed  in  the  schoolhouse,  and  burned  up  the  partitions 
for  fuel ;  but  the  thought  came  too  late ;  though  it  trou 
bled  me  much.  Two  or  three  times,  one  of  the  mares 
fell  in  the  drifts,  and  nothing  but  the  courage  bred  into 
them  in  the  blue-grass  fields  of  Kentucky  saved  us  from 
stalling  out  in  that  fearful  moving  flood  of  wind  and 
frost  and  snow.  Two  or  three  times  we  narrowly  es 
caped  being  thrown  out  into  it  by  the  overturn  of  the 
sleigh;  and  then  I  foresaw  a  struggle,  in  which  there 
would  be  no  hope ;  for  in  a  storm  in  which  a  strong  man 
is  helpless,  how  could  he  expect  to  come  out  safe  with  a 
weak  girl  on  his  hands? 

At  last,  the  inevitable  happened:  the  off  mare  dove 
into  a  great  drift ;  the  nigh  one  pulled  on :  and  they  came 
to  a  staggering  halt,  one  of  them  was  kept  from  falling 
partly  by  her  own  efforts,  and  partly  by  the  snow  about 
her  legs  against  which  she  braced  herself.  As  they  stood 


That  fearful  moving  flood  of  wind  and  frost  and  snow 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    407 

there,  they  turned  their  heads  and  looked  back  as  if  to 
say  that  so  far  as  they  were  concerned,  the  fight  was 
over.  They  had  done  all  they  could. 

I  sat  a  moment  thinking.  I  looked  about,  and  saw, 
between  gusts,  that  we  were  almost  against  a  huge  straw- 
pile,  where  some  neighbor  had  threshed  a  setting  of  wheat. 
This  might  mean  that  we  were  close  to  a  house,  or  it 
might  not.  I  handed  the  lines  to  Virginia  under  the 
robes,  got  out,  and  struggled  forward  to  look  at  my  team. 
Their  blood-shot  eyes  and  quivering  flanks  told  me  that 
they  could  help  us  no  longer ;  so  I  unhitched  them,  so  as 
to  keep  the  cutter  as  a  possible  shelter,  and  turned  them 
loose.  They  floundered  off  into  the  drifts,  and  left  us 
alone.  Cuffed  and  mauled  by  the  storm,  I  made  a  cir 
cuit  of  the  stack,  and  stumbled  over  the  tumbling-rod  of 
the  threshing-machine,  which  was  still  standing  where 
it  had  been  used.  Leaning  against  the  wheel  was  a 
shovel,  carried  for  use  in  setting  the  separator.  This  I 
took  with  me,  with  some  notion  of  building  a  snow-house 
for  us ;  for  I  somehow  felt  that  if  there  was  any  hope  for 
us,  it  lay  in  the  shelter  of  that  straw.  As  I  passed  the 
side  of  the  stack,  just  where  the  ground  was  scraped 
bare  by  the  wind,  I  saw  what  seemed  to  be  a  hole  under 
and  into  the  great  loose  pile  of  dry  straw.  It  looked  ex 
actly  like  one  of  those  burrows  which  the  children  used 
to  make  in  play  in  such  places. 

Virginia  was  safe  for  the  moment,  sitting  covered  up 
snugly  with  her  hands  warmed  by  the  little  dog;  but  the 
cold  was  beginning  to  penetrate  the  robes.  I  could  leave 
her  for  the  moment  while  I  investigated  the  burrow  with 
the  shovel.  As  I  gained  a  little  advantage  over  the  snow 
which  was  drifted  in  almost  as  fast  as  I  could  shovel  it 


408  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

out,  my  heart  leaped  as  I  found  the  hole  opening  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  stack;  and  I  plunged  in  on  my  hands 
and  knees,  found  it  dry  and  free  from  snow  within  ten 
feet  of  the  mouth,  and  after  enlarging  it  by  humping  up 
my  back  under  it  where  the  settling  had  made  it  too  small, 
I  emerged  and  went  to  Virginia ;  whom  I  took  out  with 
her  dog,  wrapped  her  in  the  robes  so  as  to  keep  them 
from  getting  snowy  inside,  and  backing  into  the  burrow, 
hauled  the  pile  of  robes,  girl  and  dog  in  after  me,  like  a 
gigantic  mouse  engaged  in  saving  her  young.  I  think 
no  mouse  ever  yearned  over  her  treasures  in  such  case 
more  than  I  did. 

And  then  I  went  back  to  get  the  dinner-basket,  which 
was  already  buried  under  the  snow  which  had  filled  the 
cutter ;  for  I  knew  that  there  was  likely  tc  be  something 
left  over  of  one  of  the  bountiful  dinners  which  a  farmer's 
wife  puts  up  for  the  teacher.  Then  I  went  back  into  the 
little  chamber  of  straw  in  which  we  had  found  shelter, 
stopping  up  the  mouth  with  snow  and  straw  as  I  went 
in.  I  drew  a  long  breath.  This  was  far  better  than  I 
had  dared  hope  for.  There  is  a  warmth  generated  in 
such  a  pile,  from  the  slow  fermentation  of  the  straw 
juices ;  even  when  seemingly  dry  as  this  was :  and  far  in 
the  middle  of  the  stack,  vegetables  might  have  been 
stored  without  freezing.  The  sound  of  the  tempest  did 
not  reach  us  here ;  it  was  still  as  death,  and  dark  as  tar. 
I  wondered  that  Virginia  did  not  say  anything;  but  she 
kept  still  because  she  did  not  understand  where  she  was, 
or  what  I  had  done  with  her. 

Finally,  when  she  spoke  it  was  to  say,  "Unwrap  me, 
Teunis !  I  am  smothering  with  the  heat !" 

I  laughed  a  long  loud  laugh.     I  guess  I  was  almost 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    409 

hysterical.     The   change   was    so   sudden,    so   complete. 
Virginia  was  actually  complaining  of  the  heat! 

I  unwrapped  her  carefully,  and  kissed  her.  Did  ever 
any  peril  turn  to  any  one  a  face  so  full  of  clemency  and 
tenderness  as  this  blizzard  to  me? 

"It  takes,"  says  she,  "a  storm  to  move  you  to  any 
speed  faster  than  a  walk." 

The  darkness  in  the  burrow  was  now  full  of  light  for 
me.  I  made  it  soft  as  a  mouse-nest,  by  pulling  down 
the  clean  straw,  and  spreading  it  in  the  bottom,  with  the 
coonskin  under  her,  and  the  buffalo-robe  for  a  coverlid. 
There  was  scarcely  room  for  two  there,  but  we  made  it 
do,  and  found  room  for  the  little  dog  also.  There  was 
an  inexpressible  happiness  in  our  safety  from  the  awful 
storm,  which  we  knew  raged  all  about  our  nest ;  but  to 
be  together,  and  to  feel  that  the  things  that  stood  between 
us  had  all  been  swept  away  at  once — even  the  chaff  that 
fell  down  our  necks  only  gave  us  cause  for  laughter. 

"Your  coat  is  all  wet !"  she  exclaimed. 

"It  was  the  snow,  shoveling  the  way  in,"  I  said.  "It's 
nothing." 

But  she  began  right  there  to  take  care  of  me.  She 
made  me  take  off  the  overcoat,  and  wrap  myself  in  the 
blanket.  The  dampness  went  out  into  the  dry  straw; 
but  when  drowsiness  came  upon  us,  she  would  not  let 
me  take  the  chance  of  getting  chilled,  but  made  me  wrap 
myself  in  the  robes  with  her ;  and  we  lay  there  talking 
until  finally,  tired  by  my  labors,  I  went  to  sleep  with  her 
arms  about  me,  and  her  lips  close  to  mine;  and  when  I 
awoke,  she  was  asleep,  and  I  lay  there  listening  to  her 
soft  breathing  for  hours. 

We  were  both  hungry  when  she  awoke,  and  in  the 


410  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

total  darkness  we  felt  about  for  the  dinner-basket,  in 
which  were  the  dinners  of  the  children  of  the  McConkey 
family  with  whom  she  had  boarded,  and  who  had  gone 
home  at  noon,  because  the  fuel  was  gone.  We  ate  frozen 
pie,  and  frozen  boiled  eggs,  and  frozen  bread  and  butter ; 
and  then  lay  talking  and  caressing  each  other  for  hours. 
We  talked  about  the  poor  horses,  for  which  Virginia  felt 
a  deep  pity,  out  there  in  the  fierce  storm  and  the  awful 
cold.  We  talked  of  the  beautiful  cutter;  and  finally,  I 
explained  the  way  in  which  I  had  robbed  Gowdy  of  horses 
and  robes  and  sleigh,  and  dog. 

"He  can  never  have  the  dog  back,"  said  she.  "And 
to  think  that  I  am  hiding  out  in  a  strawstack  with  a  rob 
ber  and  a  horse-thief !" 

Then  she  said  she  reckoned  we'd  have  to  join  the 
Bunker  gang,  if  we  could  find  any  of  it  to  join.  Cer 
tainly  we  should  be  fugitives  from  justice  when  the 
storm  was  over;  but  she  for  herself  would  rather  be  a 
fugitive  always  with  me  than  to  be  rescued  by  "that 
man" — and  it  was  lucky  for  him,  too,  she  said,  that  I 
had  licked  him  and  shut  him  up  in  a  house  where  he 
would  be  warm  and  fed;  because  he  never  would  have 
been  able  to  save  himself  in  this  awful  storm  as  I  had 
done.  Nobody  could  have  done  so  well  as  I  had  done.  I 
had  snatched  her  from  the  very  jaws  of  death. 

"Then,"  said  I,  "you're  mine." 

"Of  course  I  am,"  said  she.  "I've  been  yours  ever 
since  we  lived  together  so  beautifully  on  the  road,  and  in 
our  Grove  of  Destiny.  Of  course  I'm  yours — and  you 
are  mine,  Teunis — ain't  you?" 

"Then,"  said  I,  "just  as  soon  as  we  get  out  of  here, 
we'll  be  married." 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    411 

It  took  argument  to  establish  this  point,  but  the  jury 
was  with  me  from  the  start;  and  finally  nothing  stood 
between  me  and  a  verdict  but  the  fact  that  she  must  fin 
ish  her  term  of  school.  I  urged  upon  her  that  my  house 
was  nearer  the  school  than  was  McConkey's,  and  she 
could  finish  it  if  she  chose.  Then  she  said  she  didn't  be 
lieve  it  would  be  legal  for  Virginia  Vandemark  to  finish 
a  contract  signed  by  Virginia  Royall — and  pretty  soon 
I  realized  that  she  was  making  fun  of  me,  and  I  hugged 
her  and  kissed  her  until  she  begged  my  pardon. 

And  all  the  time  the  storm  raged.  We  finished  the 
food  in  the  dinner  pail,  and  began  wondering  how  long 
we  had  been  imprisoned,  and  how  hungry  we  ought  to 
be  by  this  time.  I  was  not  in  the  least  hungry  myself; 
but  I  began  to  feel  panicky  for  fear  Virginia  might  be 
starving  to  death.  She  had  a  watch,  of  course,  as  a 
teacher;  but  it  had  run  down  long  ago,  and  even  if  it 
had  not,  we  could  not  have  lit  a  match  in  that  place  by 
which  to  look  at  it.  Becoming  really  frightened  as  the 
thought  of  starvation  and  death  from  thirst  came  oft- 
ener  and  oftener  into  my  mind,  I  dug  my  way  to  the 
opening  of  the  burrow,  and  found  it  black  night,  and 
the  snow  still  sweeping  over  the  land;  but  there  was 
hope  in  the  fact  that  I  could  see  one  or  two  bright  stars 
overhead.  The  gale  was  abating;  and  I  went  back  with 
this  word,  and  a  basket  of  snow  in  lieu  of  water. 

Whether  it  was  the  first  night  out  or  the  second,  I 
did  not  know,  and  this  offered  ground  for  argument. 
Virginia  said  that  we  had  lived  through  so  much  that  it 
had  probably  made  the  time  seem  longer  than  it  was ; 
but  I  argued  that  the  time  of  holding  her  in  my  arms, 
kissing  her,  telling  her  how  much  I  loved  her,  and  per- 


412  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

suading  her  to  marry  me  as  soon  as  we  could  get  to 
Elder  Thorndyke's,  made  it  seem  shorter — and  this  led 
to  more  efforts  to  make  the  time  pass  away.  Finally,  I 
dug  out  again,  just  as  we  both  were  really  and  truly  hun 
gry,  and  went  back  after  Virginia.  I  made  her  wrap  up 
warmly,  and  we  crawled  out,  covered  with  chaff,  rum 
pled,  mussed  up,  but  safe  and  happy ;  and  found  the  sun 
shining  over  a  landscape  of  sparkling  frost,  with  sun- 
dogs  in  the  sky  and  millions  of  bright  needles  of  frost  in 
the  air,  and  a  light  breeze  still  blowing  from  the  north 
west,  so  bitingly  cold  that  a  ringer  or  cheek  was  nipped 
by  it  in  a  moment's  exposure.  And  within  forty  rods 
of  us  was  the  farmstead  of  Amos  Bemisdarfer;  who 
stood  looking  at  us  in  amazement  as  we  came  across  the 
rippled  surface  of  the  snow  to  his  back  door. 

"I  kess,"  said  Amos,  "it  mus'  have  peen  your  team  I 
put  in  de  parn  lass  night.  Come  in.  Preckfuss  is  retty." 

I  left  it  to  Virginia — she  had  been  so  sensible  and 
wise  in  all  her  words  since  we  had  agreed  to  be  married 
at  once — to  cell  the  elder  and  Grandma  Thorndyke  about 
it.  But  she  went  to  pieces  when  she  tried  it.  She  ran 
into  their  little  front  room  where  the  elder  was  working 
on  a  sermon,  pulling  grandma  out  of  the  kitchen  by  the 
hand. 

"Teunis  and  I,"  she  gasped,  "have  been  lost  in  the 
storm,  and  nearly  froze  to  death,  and  he  tied  that  man  up 
with  the  well-rope,  and  maybe  he's  starved  to  death  in 
Teunis's  house,  and  Teunis  and  I  slept  in  a  straw-stack, 
and  Teunis  is  just  as  brave  as  he  can  be,  and  we're  going 
to  be  married  awful  soon,  and  I'm  going  to  board  with 
him  then,  and  that'll  be  nicer  than  with  the  McConkeys' 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    413 

and  nearer  the  schoolhouse,  and  cheaper,  and  Teunis 
will  build  fires  for  me,  and  we'll  be  just  as  happy  as  we 
can  be,  and  when  you  quit  this  stingy  church  you'll  both 
of  you  live  with  us  forever  and  ever,  and  I  want  you  to 
kiss  Teunis  and  call  him  your  son  right  now,  and  if  you 
don't  we'll  both  be  mad  at  you  always — no  we  won't,  no 
we  won't,  you  dear  things,  but  you  will  marry  us,  won't 
you?" 

And  then  she  cried  hysterically  and  kissed  us  all. 

"What  Virginia  says,"  said  I,  "is  all  true — especially 
the  getting  married  right  now,  and  your  living  with  us. 
We'll  both  be  awful  sorry  if  we  can't  have  you  right  off." 

"I  snum !"  exclaimed  Grandma  Thorndyke.  "Just  as 
I  expected !" 

Grandma  outlived  the  elder  by  many  years ;  and  it  was 
not  very  long  before  she  came,  a  widow,  to  live  with 
us  "until  she  could  hear  from  her  folks  in  Massachusetts.' 
She  finally  heard  from  them,  but  she  lived  with  us,  and  is 
buried  in  our  lot  in  the  Monterey  Centre  burying-ground. 
She  always  expected  everything  that  happened.  I  have 
given  some  hints  of  her  character ;  but  she  had  one  weak 
ness;  she  always,  when  she  was  a  little  down,  spoke  of 
herself  as  being  a  burden  to  us,  especially  in  the  hard 
times  in  the  'seventies.  There  was  never  a  better  woman, 
or  one  that  did  more  for  a  family  than  she  did  for  Virginia 
and  me  and  our  children — and  our  chickens  and  our 
calves  and  our  lambs  and  goslings  and  ducks  and  young 
turkeys.  Of  course,  she  wanted  Virginia  to  do  better  than 
to  marry  me ;  and  that  was  all  right  with  me  after  I  under 
stood  it :  but  grandma  made  that  good,  by  always  taking 
my  side  of  every  little  difference  in  the  family.  Peace  to 
her  ashes! 


414  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

5 

Now  I  have  reached  the  point  in  this  history  where 
things  get  beyond  me.  I  can't  tell  the  history  of  Mon 
terey  County;  and  the  unsettled  matters  like  the  Wade- 
Stone  controversy,  the  outcome  of  the  betrayal  of  Rowena 
Fewkes  by  Buckner  Gowdy,  and  other  beginnings  of 
things  like  the  doings  of  the  Bushyager  bandits ;  for 
some  of  them  run  out  into  the  history  of  the  state  as  well 
as  the  county.  And  as  for  the  township  history,  it  is  now 
approaching  the  point  where  there  is  nothing  to  it  but 
more  settlers,  roads,  schools,  and  the  drainage  of  the  slew 
— of  which,  so  far  as  the  reader  is  concerned  if  he  is  not 
posted,  he  may  post  himself  up  by  getting  that  Excelsior 
County  History,  which  he  can  do  cheaply  from  almost  any 
one  who  was  swindled  by  their  slick  agent.  What 
remains  to  be  told  here  is  a  short  horse  and  soon  curried. 
Vandemark  Township  was  set  off  as  a  separate  town 
ship  within  six  weeks  of  the  day  we  crawled  out  of  the 
strawstack — and  on  that  day  we  had  been  married  a 
month,  and  Virginia  was  boarding  with  me  as  she  pre 
dicted.  Doctor  Bliven  as  a  member  of  the  County  Board 
voted  for  the  new  township  just  as  his  wife  said  he 
would  after  I  talked  with  her  about  it. 

N.  V.  Creede  says  that  at  this  time  I  was  threatened 
with  political  ability ;  but  happily  recovered.  One  reason 
for  this  joke  he  finds  in  the  fact  that  I  was  elected  justice 
of  the  peace  in  the  township  at  the  first  election  of 
officers ;  and  got  some  reputation  out  of  the  fact  that 
they  named  the  township  after  me  when  it  was  fashion 
able  to  name  them  after  Lincoln,  Colfax,  Grant,  Sherman, 
Sheridan  and  the  rest  of  the  Civil  War  heroes.  The 
second  is  the  way  I  handled  Dick  McGill.  N.  V.  says  this 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    415 

was  very  subtle.  I  knew  that  if  he  wrote  up  my  dragging 
Virginia  into  a  straw-pile  and  keeping  her  there  two 
nights  and  a  day,  while  he  would  make  folks  laugh  all 
over  the  county,  he  would  make  us  ashamed  ;  for  he  never 
failed  to  give  everything  a  tint  of  his  own  color.  So  I 
went  to  him  and  told  him  that  if  he  said  a  word  about  it, 
I  should  maul  him  into  a  slop  and  feed  him  to  the  hogs. 
This  was  my  way  of  being  "subtle." 

"Why,  Jake,"  he  said,  "I  never  would  say  anything 
to  take  the  shine  off  the  greatest  thing  ever  done  in  these 
parts.  I've  got  it  all  written  up,  and  I'm  sending  a  copy 
of  it  to  the  Chicago  Tribune.  It's  an  epic  of  prairie  life. 
Read  it,  and  if  you  don't  want  it  printed,  why,  it's  me  for 
the  swine ;  for  it's  already  gone  to  Chicago." 

Of  course  it  seemed  all  right  to  me,  but  I  was  afraid 
of  it,  and  was  thinking  of  pounding  him  up  right  then, 
when  in  came  Elder  Thorndyke  to  put  in  the  paper  some 
thing  about  his  next  Sunday's  services,  and  McGill  asked 
him  to  read  the  story  and  act  as  umpire.  And  after  he 
had  gone  over  it,  he  grasped  my  hand  and  said  that  Vir 
ginia  and  I  had  not  told  them  half  of  the  strange  story 
of  our  living  through  the  blizzard  out  on  the  prairie,  and 
that  it  was  a  great  drama  of  resolution,  resource  and  brav 
ery  on  my  part,  and  seemed  almost  like  a  miracle. 

"Will  this  hurt  Virginia's  feelings  if  it  is  printed?"  I 
asked. 

"No,  no,"  he  said.  "It  will  make  her  fiance  a  hero. 
It  will  tickle  her,"  said  he,  "half  to  death." 

Then  I  told  Dick  he  might  go  on  with  it  if  he  would 
leave  it  just  as  it  was.  The  joke  was  on  him,  after  all, 
for  there  was  nothing  in  it  about  my  fight  with  Buck 


4i6  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

Gowdy,  or  of  my  robbing  him  of  the  team  and  sleigh  and 
harness  and  robes  and  Nick,  the  little  dog. 

The  third  thing  that  N.  V.  thought  might  have  sent 
me  down  through  the  greased  tin  horn  of  politics,  which 
has  ruined  more  good  men  than  any  other  form  of  gam 
bling,  was  my  management  of  the  business  of  getting  the 
township  set  off,  against  the  opposition  of  the  whole 
Monterey  Centre  Ring.  But  he  did  not  know  of  that  day 
in  Dubuque,  and  of  my  smuggling  of  Mrs.  Bliven  into 
Iowa,  as  I  have  told  it  in  this  history.  It  hurt  Bliven 
politically,  but  he  kept  on  boosting  me,  and  it  was  his 
electioneering,  that  I  knew  nothing  about,  that  elected  me 
justice  of  the  peace ;  and  it  was  Mrs.  Bliven's  urging  that 
caused  me  to  qualify  by  being  sworn  in — though  I  couldn't 
see  what  she  meant  by  her  interest. 


On  my  next  birthday,  the  twenty-seventh  of  July, 
however,  something  happened  that  after  a  few  months 
of  figuring  made  me  think  that  they  knew  what  they 
were  about  all  the  time ;  for  on  that  day  they  (the  Bliv- 
ens)  got  up  a  surprise  party  on  us,  and  came  in  such 
rigs  as  they  had  (there  were  more  light  rigs  than  at  the 
Governor  Wade  reception,  a  fact  of  historical  interest  as 
showing  progress)  ;  though  Virginia  did  not  seem  to  be 
much  surprised.  In  the  course  of  the  evening  Doc 
Bliven  started  in  making  fun  of  me  as  a  justice  of  the 
peace. 

"I  helped  a  little  to  elect  you,  Jake,"  said  he,  "but  I'll 
bet  you  couldn't  make  out  a  mittimus  if  you  had  to  send 
a  criminal  to  jail  to-night." 

"I  won't  bet,"  I  said.    "I  know  I  couldn't !" 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    417 

"I'll  bet  the  oysters  for  the  crowd,  Squire  Vande- 
mark,"  he  went  on  deviling  me,  "that  you  couldn't  per 
form  the  marriage  ceremony." 

Now  here  he  came  closer  to  my  abilities,  for  I  had 
been  through  a  marriage  ceremony  lately,  and  I  have  & 
good  memory — and  oysters  were  a  novelty  in  Iowa,  com 
ing  in  tin  cans  and  called  cove  oysters,  put  up  in  Balti 
more.  It  looked  like  a  chance  to  stick  Doc  Bliven,  and 
while  I  was  hesitating,  Mrs.  Bliven  whispered  that  there 
was  a  form  for  the  ceremony  in  the  instruction  book. 

"I'll  bet  you  the  oysters  for  the  crowd  I  can,"  I  said. 
"You  furnish  the  happy  couple — and  I'll  see  that  you 
furnish  the  oyster  supper,  too." 

"Any  couple  will  do,"  said  the  doctor.  "Come,  Mol- 
lie,  we  may  as  well  go  through  it  again." 

The  word  "again"  seemed  suspicious.  I  began  to 
wonder:  and  before  the  ceremony  was  over,  I  reading 
from  the  book  of  instructions,  and  people  interrupting 
with  their  jokes,  I  saw  that  this  meant  a  good  deal  to  the 
Blivens.  Mollie's  voice  trembled  as  she  said  "I  do!"; 
and  the  doctor's  hand  was  not  steady  as  he  took  hers.  I 
asked  myself  what  had  become  of  the  man  who  had  made 
the  attack  on  Bliven  as  he  stood  in  line  for  his  mail  at  the 
Dubuque  post-office  away  back  there  in  1855. 

"Don't  forget  my  certificate,  Jake,"  said  Mrs.  Bliven, 
as  they  sat  down ;  and  I  had  to  write  it  out  and  give  it  to 
her. 

"And  remember  the  report  of  it  to  the  county  clerk," 
said  Henderson  L.  Burns,  who  held  that  office  himself. 
"The  Doc  will  kick  out  of  the  supper  unless  you  do  every 
thing." 


418  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

I  did  not  forget  the  report,  and  I  suppose  it  is  there 
in  the  old  records  to  this  day. 

"We  got  word,"  whispered  Mrs.  Bliven  to  me  as  she 
went  away,  "that  I  have  been  a  widow  for  more  than  a 
year.  You've  been  a  good  friend  to  me,  Jake  !"* 

I  shall  not  close  this  history,  without  clearing  up  my 
record  as  to  the  mares,  Susie  and  Winnie,  and  the  cutter, 
and  Nick,  the  black-and-tan,  that  saved  Virginia's  fingers 
from  freezing,  and  the  robes.  First,  I  kept  the  property, 
and  every  horse  on  the  farm  is  descended  from  Susie  and 
Winnie.  Second,  I  paid  Buck  Gowdy  all  the  outfit  was 
worth,  though  he  never  knew  it,  and  never  would  have 
taken  pay :  I  drove  a  bunch  of  cattle  over  into  his  corn 
field  the  next  fall  and  left  them  just  before  day  one  morn 
ing,  and  he  took  them  up,  advertised  them  as  estrays,  and 
finally,  as  N.  V.  says,  reduced  them  to  possession.  And 
third,  they  were  legally  mine,  anyhow ;  for  when  I  got 
home,  I  found  this  paper  lying  on  the  bed,  where  he  had 
slept  those  two  nights  when  \ve  were  nesting  in  the  straw- 
pile: 

BILL  OF  SALE 

In  consideration  of  one  lesson  in  the  manly  art  of 
self-defense,  of  two  days'  board  and  lodging,  and  of  one 
dollar  ($1.00)  to  me  in  hand  by  J.  T.  Vandemark,  the 
receipt  of  which  is  hereby  acknowledged,  I  hereby  sell 

*There  is  no  record  of  this  marriage  in  the  clerk's  office; 
where  it  was  regarded,  of  course,  as  a  joke.  This  was  probably 
a  unique  case  of  a  secret  marriage  made  in  public;  but  there  is 
no  doubt  as  to  its  validity.  The  editor  remembers  the  Blivens 
as  respected  citizens.  They  are  dead  long  since,  and  left  no 
descendants.  Otherwise  the  historian  would  not  have  told  their 
story — which  is  not  illustrative  of  anything  usual  in  our  early 
history;  but  shows  that  in  Iowa  as  in  other  new  countries  there 
were  those  who  were  escaping  from  their  past. — G.  v.  d.  M. 


AS  GRANDMA  THORNDYKE  EXPECTED    419 

and  transfer  to  said  J.  T.  Vandemark,  possession  having 
already  been  given,  the  following  described  personal 
property,  to  wit : 

i  Bay  Mare  called  Susie,  weight  1150  Ibs.,  with  star  in 
forehead,  and  white  left  hind  foot,  five  years  old ; 

I  Bay  Mare  called  Winnie,  weight  1175  Ibs.,  with 
star  in  forehead,  and  two  white  hind  feet,  six  years  old ; 

i  one-seated,  swell-body  cutter,  one  fine  army  blanket, 
one  coonskin  robe  lined  with  flannel,  one  large  buffalo 
robe. 

It  is  hereby  understood  that  if  any  of  said  animals  are 
ever  returned  to  me  at  Blue-grass  Manor  or  elsewhere 
they  will  be  hamstrung  by  the  undersigned  and  turned  out 
to  die.  Signed,  J.  Buckner  Gowdy. 

One  of  my  grandsons,  Frank  McConkey,  has  just  read 
over  this  chapter,  and  remarks,  "He  was  a  dead  game 
sport !"  But  he  had  also  read  what  Captain  Gowdy  had 
interlined,  or  rather  written  on  the  margin  to  go  in  after 
the  description  of  the  property  conveyed :  "Also  one  blue- 
blooded  black-and-tan  terrier  name  'Nicodemus.'  The 
tail  goes  with  the  hide,  Jacob!"  Since  his  death,  I  have 
grown  to  liking  the  man  much  better ;  in  fact  ever  since  I 
whaled  him. 

Here  ends  the  story,  so  far  as  I  can  tell  it.  It  is  not 
my  story.  There  are  some  fifteen  hundred  townships  in 
Iowa ;  and  each  of  them  had  its  history  like  this :  and  so 
had  every  township  in  all  the  great,  wonderful  West  of 
the  prairie.  The  thing  in  my  mind  has  been  to  tell  the 
truth  ;  not  the  truth  of  statistics  ;  not  just  information:  but 
the  living  truth  as  we  lived  it.  Every  one  of  these  town 
ships  has  a  history  beginning  in  the  East,  or  in  Scandi 
navia,  or  Germany,  or  the  South.  We  are  a  result  of  lines 


420  VANDEMARK'S  FOLLY 

of  effect  which  draw  together  into  our  story ;  and  we  are 
a  cause  of  a  future  of  which  no  man  can  form  a  conjec 
ture. 

The  prairies  took  me,  an  ignorant,  orphaned  canal 
hand,  and  made  me  something  much  better.  How  much 
better  it  is  not  for  me  to  say.  The  best  prayer  I  can  utter 
now  is  that  it  may  do  as  well  with  my  children  and 
grandchildren,  with  the  tenants  on  these  rich  farms,  and 
the  farm-hands  that  help  till  them,  and  with  the  owners 
who  find  that  expensive  land  is  just  like  expensive 
clothes: — merely  something  you  must  have,  and  must 
pay  heavily  for. 

THE  END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWE 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
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r>  f  n 


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'66 -10  PI 


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University'  of  California 
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